Trial and Error
by Beckyllikki
Summary: Buffy Summers is a successful businesswoman with loving family and friends, but her life is not her own. Past choices and external circumstances have conspired to force her into a life she never wanted. She walks through the world without actually living
1. Prologue

Trial & Error  
  
Prologue  
  
Friday April 14th 5:30am - LA, California  
  
Spike Giles quietly snuck into his small apartment, dress shoes in hand, charcoal grey suit jacket over one arm, the top few buttons of his blue shirt undone and tie loose.  
  
There was nothing more pressing on his mind other than the need for a hot shower and several cups of strong black coffee. He figured it wasn't much to ask for, after the hard work he'd put in last night.  
  
"Ow. Bleeding bloody hell!"  
  
He hopped up and down clutching his abused toe cursing and swearing at the object his sock-clad foot had just collided with. As the pain receded he looked down at the hallway floor finding it strewn with the usual mess that was his roommates trademark.  
  
He continued into the living room and took a good look around. There was no sign of his roommate, apart from his mess, but asleep on the couch was his latest conquest. She looked out for the count. There was no telling what the two of them had been up to, but if her look of exhaustion and state of the apartment was anything to go by it must have been a fun evening.  
  
Tossing his jacket and shoes on the nearest chair he crossed to the open kitchenette, put the kettle on to boil and called a cab. Then he went to wake her, gently shaking the attractive brunette's shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Gina pet. I called you a cab it'll be here in a few."  
  
The reply he received was barely audible but as he headed back to the kitchen she did get up, stretch and wander over to counter that separated the living room and kitchen area. He passed her the envelope that had been put out on the counter for her and indicated to the instant coffee he was in the processing of spooning into a mug.  
  
"No thanks Spike." As she turned to sit at the counter she noticed the mess and groaned, " Do you want me to help tidy up the place?"  
  
Spike shrugged sipping at his coffee, "Nah Luv, it's fine. I'll get him to do it when he wakes up". "Okay thanks." Gina took a hard look the Englishman as he leant against the cupboards. His bleached blonde hair was disheveled, clothing rumpled, his handsome angular face full of shadows, and bags had set up residence under his blue eyes." You okay? You look trashed. Hard night?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
Gina nodded. It was pretty much a given that that was all he was going to say on the matter and he looked like he needed some peace and quiet.  
  
"I'll just go downstairs and wait with the Doorman for the cab. Will you let him know I'll call?" She gestured to the closed door leading to the second bedroom. At his nod Gina left and Spike balefully surveyed the pokey apartment.  
  
He really needed to find a better place.  
  
With this thought in mind he turned to the refrigerator and pulled a business card from out of behind one of many fridge magnets.  
  
Willow Rosenberg Rosenberg Tutoring Centre Enterprise Business Park LA. 555 - 4187 Office Hours Mon-Fri 08:00 - 18:00  
  
Time to make a call. He glanced at the microwave clock. 06:02. Okay, maybe he'd wait a few hours and with cup in hand he headed to the bathroom to start that shower before the other occupant of the house awoke. 


	2. Chapter 1

Trial & Error  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Rosenberg Computer Centre - Friday April 14th 10:00  
  
"Willow!"  
  
The pretty redhead who had been sitting at her desk industriously working, jumped from her chair and watched in dismay as the contents of her carefully colour - coded filing system tumbled to the floor and into complete disarray. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she looked to the glowering figure of her best friend Xander Harris blocking the entrance to her office with his tall form.  
  
"Xander! Wonderful to see you. However, not so nice to hear you. The shouting I coulda lived without." She smiled winsomely, "Come to take me to lunch?"  
  
She was perfectly aware that it was only 10 am, but was hopeful she could diffuse the wrath of Xander with the temptation of food, but looking at the expression on his face she could see it was a no go...ah well...  
  
"Willow." Xander advanced across Willow's functional, yet elegant office to her ecologically sound and sustainable forest desk (you didn't grow up in the Rosenberg's house without joining at least one band-wagon). Contrary to popular high school belief, Xander Harris was not stupid, especially when it came to the machinations of his oldest childhood friend. He knew she was trying to distract him with his greatest weakness...okay, he revised, since puberty his second greatest weakness...but he wasn't going to fall for it. Her attempts to be pleasant and disarming would not derail his resolve. His resolve was up and it wasn't coming down. No siree. Least ways not yet. He was going to do this. Then she could buy him lunch.  
  
Willow resigned herself to the fact that this was a conversation a long time coming, and at this point unavoidable, especially considering the telephone call she had got earlier that morning making her new project a whopping big 'you are go for take off.'  
  
She was actually surprised that Xander hadn't discovered her plan earlier. She smiled fondly at him, indicating that he take a seat while she crouched down and began collecting her scattered papers. She cursed under her breath at the restrictive business suit that wouldn't allow her to kneel properly, and as she gathered them up she took a moment to appreciate Xander's metamorphosis over the last six years.  
  
All through high school, while Willow excelled in her studies, if not the social aspects of school, Xander had been dubbed profoundly stupid by both the school faculty and the student body and had gained the reputation of being the class clown.  
  
After high school he had watched gloomily as she and several of their other friends had waltzed off to college and he was left to work his way through a series of tedious and unchallenging jobs. Then suddenly everything changed. He got a temporary job with a local construction firm and he bloomed, or thought Willow, to keep the metamorphosis metaphor going, pupated. It had taken six years but he was now the newest and youngest partner in the upcoming construction consultancy of Jenkins Smith Harris.  
  
Instead of his old trademark outlandish shirts and Mickey Mouse watch, Xander now wore Armani suits. She was immensely proud of her friend, who had finally become the person she always knew was hiding behind his joker facade. She was currently however, trying the find a way to explain herself without exacerbating the infamous Harris temper.  
  
"Okay Xand. To what do I owe this visit in work hours? You hate coming to my office,"  
  
"Only 'cos Amy gives me those 'you broke my heart, so rot in hell' looks. Sweet mama mia, we dated. Once. I said I had a nice time, but I never promised to call or said we'd do it again. I broke the guy rule and was honest, and what do I get - nothing but..."  
  
Xander paused briefly and considered willow's latest attempt at diversion. "Don't think you're sidetracking me, Missy, I know what you've done, and I've five words for you."  
  
"Buffy will never forgive you!" He paused. " Why did you do it Will?"  
  
Willow flinched, just a little. What he was saying was probably true. Their long-standing friend was notoriously unforgiving and stubborn and could hold a grudge longer than uranium's half-life. i Ah, the inner nerd never dies./i However, Willow refused to back down.  
  
"Why?" She sat down, her frenzied tidying finished. "Don't you mean why not! She needs this. Badly. You've seen how she's been. All non-smiley and distracty. She's not fun Buffy, she's scowly Buffy and recently more so than usual even for her. She should be relaxed and happy. She needs to be satisfied. No more upside down smiley faces."  
  
Even considering the situation it took all of Xander's willpower not to laugh at Willow's ramble. The usually coherent and self-possessed young woman who owned her own computer consultancy firm was gone and was replaced by nervous babble Willow from school. A sure sign that she wasn't completely confident in her assessment of Buffy's needs.  
  
As he watched, Willow's resolve face settled onto her features. iYou can resist Alexander Lavelle Harris. Don't give in. Don't give in./i He stood up and looked at her across the desk.  
  
"And you believe this is the way to make her happy?"  
  
Willow walked around her desk and stood so close that they were almost nose-to-nose, glaring at him defiantly.  
  
"Yes," then she added with a little less surety. "Eventually, when she gets used to the idea...maybe". She sat down in the second visitor's chair with an ungracious flop.  
  
Xander started to pace back and forth. "Willow, honey. If she wanted someone she would have found them herself."  
  
"Well she does and she hasn't. She needs to relieve some of that stress and tension. You know how she gets around now. Since she took that year out in England it's the same thing every May. Preoccupied Buffy. She won't talk to us, barely manages to talk to Dawn. I'm telling you something happened in England. You saw how changed she was when she got back, and I don't just mean her appearance."  
  
Xander nodded and flopped back into his own chair. "She looked good when she got back, if you know, a little sad. Hey, maybe the Buffster had herself a little romance."  
  
Willow looked at her friend in disbelief, her previous thoughts regarding his intelligence overthrown by his statement.  
  
"Xander, it's been seven years and you're only just now thinking that could have been the reason?"  
  
"Yeah, well. You know. Buff wasn't exactly a guy's fantasy material before she came back. Not that she wasn't a lovely person, with a great personality and many fine qualities. okay, shutting up about that now."  
  
"Anyway Will, even if it was a blip on the Buffy-love radar, it hardly explains the September depression. That only started three years ago." He thought for a moment before continuing. "You know maybe Dawn was right. It could have been delayed grief after their Mom's death."  
  
"Ten months after?" Willow raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Well that and they had moved out of their home, Buffy took that job her Dad insisted on, dropped out of college. Maybe it all just finally got to her. You know how she is. Keeps everything in, does everything herself. She wont let anyone else help. I swear the only reason she let me help her with the house was 'cos she couldn't work out how to use the power tools." He shuddered at the unbidden image of Buffy wielding a nail gun that had greeted him the first day he'd visited the Summers new house. He had nearly been stapled to the wall when he'd said hello.  
  
"Please don't tell me you believe the 'I'm prone to seasonal depression' excuse, Xand. This is LA! We get virtually continuous sunshine! There's something deeper going on." Willow shook her head in thought. "You know Xand, I think maybe you were right. Maybe we should have gotten her to a psychiatrist."  
  
Xander paused in his pacing and turned to his friend. "Wait a mo, did you just say I was right?"  
  
"No I said maybe you were right. Big diff."  
  
"So why did you stop me Will?"  
  
Why had she? What had made her stop him carting Buffy off to have her head shrunk? She thought back to the day she and Xander had rushed over to Buffy's house following a tearful telephone call from her younger sister Dawn.  
  
"Hey Dawnie," Willow reached out grasped the crying girl to her, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks." How you doing?"  
  
"'kay, better than Buffy anyway. Willow, she won't eat or sleep. She's in there pouring over some old letters and photos. And she's hasn't showered in days that's not our Buffy."  
  
"Where is she, Dawn Patrol?" asked Xander.  
  
"In her room. The door's open."  
  
Willow nodded and passed the sobbing girl to Xander who enveloped her into a big bear hug. She could see Dawn calming as her tears subsided. It was a well-known fact in their little circle of friends that Xander Harris gave the best hugs in the world. As Xander worked his magic to comfort the teen, Willow headed to the kitchen to make some tea. It was a habit Buffy had brought back from England with her and she figured maybe it would help soothe her. When the tea was ready she headed back to the living room cup in hand.  
  
Xander had moved the two of them over to the couch.  
  
"Hey Willow."  
  
"Yeah Sweetie?"  
  
"Is this 'cos of Mom?"  
  
"I don't know. I'll see if I can find out. Okay?"  
  
Dawn sniffled still leaning into Xander's comforting embrace. "Okay."  
  
"Dawn, did anything happen at all. Did she get a letter, did you two fight or maybe something happened at work that Buffy mentioned?"  
  
"I don't think so." Dawn thought a little more. "Oh wait, she had a phone call a couple of days ago. Long distance I think. I was on my way out the door to go to school so I've got no idea who it was from or what is was about."  
  
"But it's been since then that Buffy's been all avoidy?"  
  
"Yeah. Willow, it's my fault I should have called you earlier but I just kinda thought it was Mom and Dad and the job and having to take care of me. But it's worse than that. Can you talk to her? Please?"  
  
"I'll give it a go." Willow tried for a reassuring smile.  
  
"Maybe we should get her to a psychiatrist or a grief counsellor or something. Maybe that would work?"  
  
"I don't know Xand. Let me see her first. Okay?" Xander agreed, "Sure."  
  
Xander shifted attention to Dawn and smoothed her hair. "You hungry?"  
  
At Dawn's nod he got up and headed to the kitchen. "Okay then I'll cook." He glanced quickly at Willow giving her a quick wink.  
  
"You can't cook Xand." Dawn stated smiling. "No? Well then how 'bout I order?"  
  
Willow smiled * Trust Xander Harris to cheer people up with food * and padded down the hallway to Buffy's room. She pushed open the door and peered into the gloomy interior looking for her friend. As she eased towards the figure on the bed, Buffy turned and she saw her tear streaked face. Yes there was grief in her red-rimmed eyes but, it was something else that made her pause in her attempts to comfort and help. Acknowledgement. Acknowledgement of choices she had made, and a past that she couldn't change.  
  
Willow had seen the look in her own eyes reflected back at her in the mirror the day she had acknowledged her attraction to another woman. Whatever had happened, Buffy had accepted it and she would continue. Buffy had made it through this situation herself. The window of opportunity that they had had to reach out and help had come and gone. She knew Buffy well enough that no details would be forthcoming, and so she did the only thing she could do. Putting down the rapidly cooling tea, Willow gathered Buffy up into her arms, holding her tight and let her cry her remaining tears.  
  
Willow brought herself back to the present with a quick shake. Realising she'd missed a question.  
  
"Sorry Xand? I missed that."  
  
"Willow, are you telling me that hiring this guy will change Buffy that much?" He repeated.  
  
"Well it's not like she has to keep him if he's no good. I've hired him for a trial period and if he's not satisfactory after that, then she can fire him." She hoped she sounded convincing. "And no I don't think he'll change her that much, but he'll help relieve her of some of the stress and he wont let her get away with this not living malarkey. He'll challenge her. It might not pretty but it'll be real."  
  
"And he's reliable? You've at least had him checked out, right? No sordid past of murdering vulnerable women or anything?"  
  
"Yes Xand. I spoke to his boss he's got excellent references from many of his clients. Plus you forget, I've seen this guy in action, he's a natural."  
  
Xander shook his head, resigned. He just knew somehow, not only would Buffy never forgive Willow, he'd probably end up with a kicked ass in the subsequent fallout. He stood, and clapped his hands together.  
  
"OK then. Lunch?" 


	3. Chapter 2

Trial & Error  
  
Chapter 2 - part 1  
  
Summers & Langley Publishing House Friday 14 April 16:00 Hours  
  
On the other side of the city centre, as her two best friends enjoyed a long lunch, a very busy young woman sat at her desk trying to finish her phone call and attempting to prepare her own extremely late lunch at the same time.  
  
Successful executive of a publishing company that she was however, the technical difficulties involved in talking and peeling a banana were too much for her multitasking skills. Something had to give. In this instance it was the banana. The unsuspecting fruit was suddenly involved in a highflying act that a seasoned trapeze artist would be proud of, but the landing sucked as it ended its short existence in an extreme velocity impact with the window.  
  
Elizabeth Anne Summers, Buffy to her friends, stared forlornly past the smooshed banana slowly slinking down the windowpane, and out at the view from her executive corner office, her mind barely on the annoying voice on the other end of the Trans Atlantic telephone line.  
  
As she listened to the voice of her so-called father droning on about projected sales figures and editing timescales, she thought back trying to pin point exactly when her life had ceased to be her own. * Because hey, the corner office wasn't her idea. The management job wasn't her idea. In fact being in LA wasn't her idea. So whose fabulous idea had all this been? Oh yeah. Daddy dearest. One Mr Hank Summers, Executive Director and co-owner of Summers & Langley Publishing House, LA, California. Successful businessman, noted member of the LA society scene and charitable benefactor. *  
  
Buffy had her own descriptions for him. Adulterer, blackmailer, absentee father, pathetic excuse for a human being. the list was longer, and got progressively less flattering as it continued. She was not in any remote way fond of the man; his past and present trespasses against her loved ones weighed too heavily against him.  
  
* Charity sure as hell doesn't start at home for Hank Summers. *  
  
The slim, short blonde mused on the events three and a half years ago that had led her to be stuck in this office, doing a job she hated and living her life according the Word of Hank.'  
  
Dawn!" Buffy shouted up the stairs trying to catch her thirteen-year- old sister's attention over the depressing music blaring from her bedroom.  
  
"Dawn!"  
  
The music was abruptly cut off and a voice, scratchy from crying, came down from the second floor. "What?"  
  
Buffy resisted the urge to cry herself on hearing the pain in Dawn's voice. She didn't have the luxury of tears right now, not when there was so much to do and to be sorted.  
  
"Willow will be here in ten minutes. Do you have everything packed that you'll need this weekend?"  
  
Buffy heard the bedroom door open and watched as her sister descended the stairs, every move she made screaming 'sulk'.  
  
"Why do you have to go?"  
  
"Dawnie." She tried placating her as she ushered them over to the couch and sat them both down. "If I can't get Hank to help us were going to lose the house."  
  
"But we've got the money he sends me, we can use that!" Dawn added excitedly.  
  
She looked so proud to have found a solution that Buffy hated having to burst her bubble. "I know, and I appreciate you wanting to help. But, Dawnie, the money Hank sends you won't cover the cost of this week's groceries, let alone pay four months worth of mortgage arrears."  
  
"What about Mom's medical insurance or the money from the sale of the gallery? That can't all have gone?"  
  
"No it hasn't." Buffy admitted realizing she'd have to tell Dawn about Mom's will.  
  
"Well then let's use that," stated Dawn, as if Buffy was stupid for not thinking of it.  
  
"Listen to me Dawnie. We can't."  
  
"Why not? There has to be enough left over from the medical bills to pay the mortgage and the bills..."  
  
Buffy interrupted "No, Dawnie. We can't." At the petulant face she was presented with she explained further. "Mom's will won't let us use any of the money. You know how adamant she was about our education?" At the agreeing nod she continued. " Well, Mom wanted us to able to have that opportunity so she put the proceeds from selling the gallery into a trust fund for both of us."  
  
"But that's great!"  
  
"No. No it isn't. I've spoken to the executors and there's a catch. We can use the money." As Dawns face brightened she continued, ".but only for education. Not for a mortgage, or food, or household bills. We can only use it for tuition fees and living expenses."  
  
"So, you're at college living in the dorms. That's fine."  
  
Buffy was getting exasperated. "No I'm not. Dawn I gave up college and the dorm room. Remember me moving back in? The 'source of your joy'? I can't go back to college until next semester and by then the house will have been taken. You couldn't live on your own anyway. Do you want to stay with Hank, leave your school, your friends?"  
  
Dawn shook her head furiously  
  
"Then I need do this. I have to go."  
  
Dawn's face fell scrunched up and her tears begin to fall again. "I hate Mom!" she cried in anger and hurt. "How could she do this Buffy? How could she leave us like this? It isn't fair. It isn't. She shouldn't have died. I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!" she crumpled and buried her face into Buffy's lap.  
  
Buffy felt the tears she'd been holding back at her mother's death prick in her eyes as she rocked her little sister, but wouldn't allow them to fall. She was determined to stay strong for Dawn. She was upset at her words but understood that they were said out of grief. As Dawn's crying began to calm she heard a muffled statement. "I want to go too."  
  
Buffy gathered her into a hug then pulled back to look into her face. She gently smoothed her sister's lustrous hair. "I know you do Dawnie. But I don't know where or when I'm going to be able to get to him, or where I'm going to be staying. I need to know you're going to be okay. Willow has strict instructions to ply you with sugary goodness and let you stay up late. Alright?"  
  
Dawn nodded sullenly. "How long will you be gone?"  
  
"I don't know. But I'll phone as soon as I get there and every evening until I get back." She promised. "Now go and pack."  
  
Dawn stood and stomped back up the stairs, more for show than with any lingering anger at being left behind.  
  
Buffy had been unable to get in to see the Executive Director of Summers Langley. And had ended up accosting him on his way out of the building on the third evening of her stay in LA.  
  
"Hank. Hank Summers!"  
  
The man was startled at hearing his name called out quite so loudly. He turned to see the young, attractive blonde woman running towards him.  
  
"Hank. I need to talk to you."  
  
"I only talk to authors that have a scheduled appointment." He looked her up and down then turned tersely to leave. "So I suggest you make one."  
  
Buffy shook her head in amazement. * Okay so I wasn't exactly expecting to be met with open arms* But the fact her own father didn't recognise her, only reinforced her low opinion of him.  
  
"I'm not an author."  
  
"Well then don't waste my time." Hank started to walk off.  
  
"Dad. It's me! Buffy."  
  
Hank halted in his attempt to head towards his waiting car and turned, disbelievingly, to the woman now standing before him.  
  
"I hardly think so. Elizabeth is plain, overweight, wears glasses and has the fashion sense of a nun." He a gave the petite beauty a quick once over, "and you, my lovely lady, are none of these things." He added in what Buffy could only presume was supposed to be his suave voice.  
  
All it did was wig her out.  
  
Buffy felt her stomach drop at the hurtful comments. The fact that the description of her had been true wasn't the issue, but that her own father would says those things about her to a person that he'd met on the street affected her a lot. She knew her father had little regard for her and the rest of the 'family' he'd left behind after his adultery had forced the divorce, but he owed them big time and now he was going to pay up.  
  
"Hank. I'm Elizabeth Anne Summers and if you don't talk to me I will personally annoy and stalk you until you listen to me!"  
  
At the last exclamation Hank had seen and recognised the accompanying foot stamp.  
  
"So, you are Buffy. What do you want?"  
  
"Mom died." Said Buffy watching for any kind of reaction on her father's face.  
  
"Yes I heard. So what do you want?" Asked Hank indifferently.  
  
Buffy's fists clenched and unclenched in a calculated effort to control the fury building in her following probably the most callous dismissal of a persons passing she had ever heard. That was it? The mother of his children dies of a painful debilitating cancer and he just brushes it off! She'd thought that maybe he'd had a valid excuse for not responding to the calls she'd made during Joyce's illness, or for not coming to the funeral. His secretary had said he'd been in Spain after all. But now Buffy had no doubts as to the nature of Hank Summers. The only problem was that she really did need his help financially. She took a deep cleansing breath and closed her eyes trying to refocus her anger into concentrating on the reason for approaching him. When she felt she finally had the urge to slap some semblance of humanity into him under control, she tried a different tack.  
  
"Look Hank. You know I wouldn't be here unless it was completely necessary. But the Bank is a week away from repossessing the house. Mom's insurance money is gone and."  
  
"And what? You thought you'd come here and trick me out of some money!"  
  
"Trick?" Okay leaving furious heading directly for outraged. "Trick! There's no trick. We need help. If you don't help us Dawnie will be living in a cardboard box by the end of the month. Is that what you want?"  
  
"What I want is to be left alone. Without every Tom, Dick or Harry thinking that the world owes them. I bought you up better than that. "  
  
Buffy just couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You didn't bring me up at all. Mom did!"  
  
"Well that explains things. Your mother always was a pushover. Look at that silly gallery she ran. Hell bent on helping under privileged artists. Please, most of them were graffiti artists. I even remember she let you show a piece or two of your so-called sculptures. Really, that woman was far too indulgent of you."  
  
*Okay so the cleansing breath and focusing thing isn't going to work this time. Think of Dawn. You're doing this for Dawn. As satisfying as hitting him maybe he'll probably not be willing to help after you break his nose.*  
  
Regardless of her inner voice she couldn't help a threatening step toward the arrogant man she had the misfortune to be related to. "How dare you. Mom was a wonderful woman who actually took peoples thoughts and feelings into consideration while obviously you."  
  
"Look young lady," Hanks interrupted in his most condescending tone. "I have people sending begging letters day in and day out. My charitable donations are made for this financial year. Understood?" He turned and continued his approach to the waiting car.  
  
"Charitable donations? We are your family!" she screamed as she followed him determined to be heard.  
  
Hank was beginning to get annoyed with this situation. He had an important meeting to attend and this spectacle in the street was starting to draw attention to them. He took her arm and dragged her to the car. Buffy was so surprised she didn't react even when the car doors locked and she was sitting next to Hank in the back seat. Irritably Hank turned towards his daughter.  
  
"You know what. You want money? Get a job. You've graduated high school it's not like you're doing anything else."  
  
"I'm in college."  
  
"College? Doing what? Oh Elizabeth not that terrible crap you pass off as art?"  
  
"I'm in my second year Art Studies & Business Management. Hey, you might have known this if you had shown an interest in any of us."  
  
"Well you're hardly going to get anywhere with a degree like that, now are you?"  
  
Buffy was becoming so livid words were beginning to fail her. Her brain fluttered around trying to think of a way, other than killing him and inheriting his money, to convince him to help them out. Hey maybe going to the press with his attitude would make him cough up. It's not like she was asking for perpetual handouts and the great society name and donator who couldn't help out his own family would have to make a good story for them. Wouldn't it?  
  
She looked up and instantly became suspicious of the calculating glint in his eye as he gave her a penetrating look. What the hell was he up to?  
  
"Tell you what. You work here for me."  
  
"Huh?" So not expecting that.  
  
"You've got some business experience and you've brushed up quite well. I'll make you a deal. I'll pay the arrears on the house, and the out standing bills. For which you will repay me. You and Dawn will move to LA and you'll work for me."  
  
"Why does that all sound a little too good to be true?"  
  
"Probably because it is. Buffy, I've got plans and you my little darling are going to make them happen." Hank must have picked up on her continuing incredulity and reluctance because he continued. "Tell you what. You're doing this for Dawn right? How about I make her your legal ward? I'll instruct my lawyers to relinquish all rights as her guardian. She'll be your responsibility."  
  
Buffy sat there and seriously thought about the offer. She needed the money badly to keep a roof over Dawn's head. But they'd both have to move to LA, give up the house, friends, her college degree. She'd have to put her ambition to re-open the Joyce Summers Gallery on hold and what about that person waiting for her in England, what was she going to do about him? Then of course there was the alternative. The Bank would reclaim the house and she and Dawnie would end up destitute and worst of all Dawn would be Hank's responsibility. God knows what sort of 'plans' he'd use her for. Not much of a choice was there? At least this way Dawn would be okay, and she had let so many people down already. There was only one option.  
  
Hank pressed her for an answer. "What do you say?"  
  
Buffy didn't feel the slightest bit happy about this but."Okay, but on one condition. You make my guardianship legal and irreversible. You never try to get Dawnie back, and you never rope her into any of these 'plans' of yours. Deal?"  
  
"Deal."  
  
* Yeah, really not happy with that smug grin, * thought Buffy as she exited the car and watched it drive away, trying to think of a way to break the news to Dawn.  
  
Chapter 2 - Part 2  
  
Buffy was still staring out of the window when the harsh tones of her father's voice rang through the telephone receiver across the Atlantic Ocean. "Beth, are you listening? Beth? Beth Summers answer me right now. Bet."  
  
Buffy winced at the use of that name. Only one other person in her life other than Hank had called her Beth, and Hank's insistence of hijacking that precious nickname got her hackles rising.  
  
"Yes, I'm here. I hear you. Shelly says the final draft for Jackson will be ready on the projected due date. The manuscripts for the Attling Memoirs will be here on Monday and Carlos Martin has been tracked down to add the amendments Bernice recommended to his work. Everything's fine," she reassured him.  
  
"It had better be Beth. I'll be back on Friday. I've extended my stay to allow me to attend to some personal business."  
  
In the background Buffy could hear the 'personal business' complain in a high-pitched feminine whine that room service was late, and why couldn't they have some of the Beluga Darling?'  
  
"Make sure you don't forget the charity ball tonight."  
  
Buffy sighed, Hank had only reminded her twice a day for the two weeks he had been in London on 'business' that the O' Connors' annual charity ball was tonight. She was amazed that he actually trusted her to do her job considering the lack of faith he showed in her remembering the simplest things. Of course if he hadn't reminded her she could have used it as an excuse to not go. No such luck.  
  
"Yes Hank I remember. Angel's picking me up at eight. So if you excuse me I've got several more calls to make before I need to head home."  
  
Buffy was fervently hoping Hank would take the hint and let her go. She did have an amazingly large pile of work to do, but she wasn't going to finish it tonight. If he would just get off the line she could call Dawn, revise some course-work and go home and get a badly needed shower before Angel picked her up.  
  
"Fine, I'll call tomorrow to see how the ball went. Bye Beth, be good. Make me proud baby."  
  
Buffy had to resist the urge to heave. "Goodbye Hank." With a relieved sigh she hung up the receiver, refusing point blank to refer to that ass- hole as Dad.  
  
With a final look out of the window Buffy stood, rolled her shoulders to try and ease the tension in her body and grabbed a handful of tissues from the caddy on the desk. She could have left the banana massacre for the cleaning shift, but had very little interest in providing speculation for gossip involving her and a mushed banana.  
  
Although she had proven herself in the job she had been forced into, there was still the lingering cloud of 'Daddy girl privilege ' that she hadn't been able to overcome. Plus the cleaners had enough work to do without strange fruit occurrences. After wiping down the window and dumping the used tissues in the trash, she reached for the phone. Dawn would be at home about now, if only briefly, before her hectic social life lured her out again.  
  
Across the Atlantic a very smug Hank Summers turned to watch the attractive blonde woman in his suite fiddle with the tray that Room Service had finally delivered, and thought on his scheming.  
  
He had not got to his current position in life by ignoring opportunities. When Buffy had confronted him at his offices three years ago, he had sensed an opportunity for personal and professional advantage that was too good to pass up. He had been remarkably surprised that the attractive young woman who had accosted him outside his offices was his eldest daughter. His frumpy, overachieving, art-loving lump of a daughter had become a desirable woman, and therefore an asset to his schemes.  
  
Hank Summers had aspirations and Buffy was helping him reach them. Them, being the O'Connor's. The O' Connor's were a prominent and influential family in the same publishing business as Hank. They had an eligible son, Angel with the reputation of being charming, if not faithful. Hank could see dollar signs and the upper echelons of LA society beckoning with the merger of their businesses, and their offspring and Buffy had provided the means.  
  
He had offered Buffy a job. She would work for the money to support herself and her sister and she would be amenable to attending the social functions he deemed appropriate. the job had paid more than anything else a young woman with an incomplete education could hope to find. He had also sweetened the pot by instructing his lawyers to relinquish all responsibility for Dawn to Buffy. Now if she would just get Angel O'Connor to pop the question, his place in society and business would be secured. But the two of them were dithering about and he was pretty much fed up with it. Things were going to have to change and he'd see to it when he got back. In the meantime he had another problem to wrestle with as he grabbed his latest paramour in a fumbling embrace.  
  
Dawn was just putting her key in the front door lock when she heard the phone ringing. On the fifth ring, just before the answer machine was about to pick up, the breathless girl managed to answer. "Hello."  
  
"Hey Dawnie it's me."  
  
"Hey Buffy, how's the hellhole?"  
  
"The hellhole is about to shut down for the day. I just talked to the devil incarnate in London, he's not coming back for another week so I hope the "moaning money" fund was filled before his departure."  
  
"Absolutely. Would I let Daddy dearest depart our shores without suitable monetary recompense?" Dawn smiled down the phone in her best British accent. "You about ready to sneak home?"  
  
"I'm gonna get a few chapters read, then I'll be back. Did you get my dress?"  
  
There was a complete absence of sound from the person on the end of the phone. "Dawn? My dress? The drycleaners? Any of this ringing a bell?"  
  
"Oh God Buffy I completely forgot!"  
  
She could hear her sister sigh.  
  
"Did you forget the grocery shop too?"  
  
"I'm so sorry Buffy, I had dance class then we went to the movies and Jay needed a new pair of sunglasses so we went to the Mall." Dawn trailed off annoyed at herself.  
  
Oh she had screwed up big time. Buffy was relying on her more and more to do some of these things and she'd blown it. So much for being a responsible teen with an eye on a driving permit. Buffy had so little time for herself these days, let alone a social life that wasn't dictated to her by Hank. She hadn't even managed to see Willow and Xander in the last week, and the last time Buffy had dated anyone other than Angel, had been two years ago with the inexcusable Parker Abram's. After a rocky start in LA Dawn had settled down well and managed to make new friends. Her disgust at her father had induced her to guilt as much cash from him while she remotely had the chance. She was good. Hank was particularly defenceless against the persistent and annoying whining that had plagued Buffy so much in the first few teenaged years of Dawn's life. She had offered to pass the money, well at least some of it, into the household funds, but Buffy had refused. She would take the money she earned at work for them but she refused to have Hank's guilt money, she was actually still amazed that he had any guilt. Dawn tried to insist, but they compromised on the "moaning money", as it was dubbed, to be for Dawn's phone and luxury extras, like her dancing lessons.  
  
Dawn agreed but unknown to Buffy she also put some away into a savings account. She knew about her sister's ambition for the art gallery, and when the time came for funding it she wanted to be able to be a part of it and help out. She missed her mother and this felt like a way to be close to her and help do something for her sister. Dawn was well aware of the sacrifices Buffy had made to ensure her a home and a chance of a life away from her fathers clutches. When Buffy had told her of the move to LA she had still had had the fantasy of her glamorous absentee father in her mind, but one meeting was sufficient to make her drop those dreams and face the reality of her father's character.  
  
"It's fine Dawn. These sort of things aren't your problem they're mine. I'll leave now and pick these thing's up on my way home."  
  
Dawn was upset. She could take being shouted at, but when Buffy got quiet and resigned she worried. She hated the semi annual brood fest that Buffy experienced and hoped this incident wouldn't set her off early.  
  
She knew how much she owed to Buffy and how hard she worked. Buffy needed any extra time she had to study. She was so determined to gain her degree. The September after their mother's death Buffy had simply stopped functioning. It was as if everything she had worked for, achieved, meant nothing to her now. She wouldn't eat, go to work or even talk to her friends. She would barely sleep even.  
  
On one occasion Dawn had snuck into her room to check on her, to find Buffy finally passed out in exhaustion over a pile of well-worn letters and photographs of a plump blonde lady and a baby. The lady she had recognised as Buffy's long time pen pal Tara. Before she'd been able to sneak a peak at the letters' contents Buffy had begun to stir and Dawn had beaten a hasty retreat to make an overdue telephone call to Xander and Willow.  
  
Dawn would have attributed this depression to final acceptance of Joyce's death but it had happened over ten months later. Buffy's fugue state lasted four days before she began to snap out of it. She changed her major from Art Studies and Business Management to Fine Art with a harder emphasis on the business side. She enrolled for night courses and became determined to earn her degree even if, working, taking care of her and dating Angel took up most of her time. Dawn had been surprised at the abrupt turn around and also Buffy's new degree major. For as long as she could remember Buffy had lived and breathed art, she was an extremely talented sculptress, but after that September when Buffy's focus returned full strength it went not into creating her own pieces but to carrying on her mother's work.  
  
"I am sorry."  
  
"I know Dawnie."  
  
She heard Buffy take a deep cleansing breath and move to change the subject. "So, what are you doing this evening?"  
  
"I'm spending the night at Susanne's. The number's on the fridge and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. Okay?" Dawn briefly considered asking to stay home alone, but with her screw up she didn't dare.  
  
"That's fine. You have a great night okay?"  
  
"Okay. You have a good time too. Say hi to Angel for me."  
  
"Will do sweetie. Bye."  
  
When she hung up Dawn took a good look around the home Buffy had made for them. The proceeds from the sale of the family home, at least what was left after the 'loan' to Hank had been repaid, were placed into an investment fund. They were able to afford a small but nicely appointed house. Their white knight at that time had been Xander, he'd been moved to LA to train for his new construction job, and with his help the little house quickly became a home. Hank, in an attempt to gain more control over their lives had offered an up market apartment but Buffy didn't want to be that indebted to him.  
  
* Time for a little bit of grovelling * she decided as she entered the kitchen and noticed the remnants of breakfast.  
  
At Dawn's farewell Buffy pressed call end then called down to the office reception desk to ask for a taxicab. The duty desk guard Pauly, sniggered good-naturedly at her regular request and she once again vowed that the driving permit that had eluded her since high school Drivers Ed would be hers. *Oh. Who was she kidding? Her driving was frightening. It even frightened her. * She was a lifetime pedestrian or a passenger, and since absolutely no one in LA walked that left passenger. She hated being so dependent on others and it restricted her freedom.  
  
She packed up her bag, locked up her office and headed to the elevator to wait for the cab in the pretty little atrium off Reception. As she entered the elevator she pressed the button for the first floor.  
  
While the car descended Buffy mentally ran the grocery list through her head * Bread, salad, milk low fat, cheese low fat, Choco Pops for Dawn, pasta, cucumber for the bags under my eyes.... * she was so engrossed that when the lift doors opened she automatically walked out without realising she hadn't yet reached her destination. *.... apples, bananas, okay maybe not a good choice after today, washing liquid...*  
  
A high-pitched burst of childish laughter stopped her in her tracks. As the perpetrator of the noise came bundling excitedly around the corner of the corridor, chased by her laughing father, Buffy froze, realising where she was just as the 5-year-old girl bumped into her. She wasn't at Reception. She was at the sixth floor company crèche.  
  
"Whoops, sorry lady."  
  
Buffy looked down and into the upturned face of Riley Finn's daughter, Rosie. The little girl was adorable with sandy hair in high bunches, blue eyes, and most notably her chubby arms, legs and previously pink dress covered in blue paint. She mentally shook herself as she knelt down to Rosie's eye level.  
  
"It's ok honey. Did you hurt yourself?"  
  
"Nope, but if Daddy catches me I have ta go home"  
  
"Don't you want to go home, sweetie?" Buffy asked as she glanced upwards to meet Riley's gaze as he caught up to his errant child.  
  
"Oh yes. But..." Rosie ducked her head conspiratorially and whispered " ... I still wanna be blue".  
  
Buffy looked back up at Riley and they shared a small chuckle.  
  
Riley crouched down, grasped Rosie around her waist and stood to his full impressive height. "Come on Munchkin lets go get you some dinner".  
  
"'Bye Buffy, sorry about the moving violation."  
  
Buffy smiled "Not to worry. Have a good weekend".  
  
"Oh we will" started Rosie, " we gonna go to the Zoo an I'm gonna get a baboon..."  
  
"A balloon, honey," corrected her father.  
  
". an a ice-cream, an a stuffed toy...and we're gonna..." Rosie's voice trailed off as she and Riley entered the elevator and the door closed.  
  
*Damn. * Buffy swore as realised she'd have to wait for the next car.  
  
She glanced down the corridor, her interest piqued by the unmistakable sounds of children laughing and clapping and talking. Unconsciously her feet made the decision to go take a look. Buffy turned the corridor corner to be greeted by the sight of the company crèche empting for the day.  
  
'Any employee of Summer & Langdon is eligible for free company childcare' insisted Hank Summers.  
  
Buffy would've been more impressed with this declaration if she hadn't known he had had this innovation leaked all over the press to improve his social and charitable standing. However, if it meant parents could work and still be able to assure the care of their children Buffy was all for it, however it happened.  
  
Buffy leant against the full-length window near the crèche entrance and watched the children getting ready to go home. Parents battled to dress little tired bodies, exhausted from their active play, into their overcoats. Gamely juggling armfuls of strange assorted Dali-like masterpieces of junk models, finger paintings, and pasta collages until finally they began dragging their children away from their playmates with the fading voices of " Mommy looky what I made."; "Stanley said I had cooties..."; " Don't wanna go..." echoing down the corridor.  
  
If anyone had had time to look up at the woman watching they wouldn't have seen a successful twenty-five year old businesswoman. They would have seen a young, wistful, sad girl with eyes darkened and clouded in thought.  
  
In the far corner by the nursery train set, a small boy of about six years old by Buffy's reckoning, with unruly dark blonde curls, had caught her eye. He was completely entranced with the engines, the track, the bridges and signals. He showed no interest in being shuffled into his coat by the crèche worker hovering over him. He just sat and played, occasionally shifting position sideways when he'd moved the trains to the extent of his short reach.  
  
Buffy found herself completely enthralled in watching his little figure link up the trains, push them round the track and pull them into the station, presumably so imaginary passengers could get off and on. All the while his lips moved as if providing dialogue for the pretend people or maybe a running narrative for the scene.  
  
As the last of the readied children left, Buffy wondered where his mother or father was. "Why would any one leave their child waiting?" Buffy kicked herself, she was the last person qualified to make judgements on parenting choices.  
  
With one last glance at the little boy, and a fervent wish that he wouldn't be left there too long, Buffy headed towards the lift attempting to shift all other thoughts from her mind to contemplation of running her errands, the upcoming ball and her required attendance with the handsome Angel O'Connor. 


	4. chapter 3

Trial & Error  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Buffy stumbled ungracefully through her front door. The grocery bags, so helpfully packed by a pimply-faced teen at the market, were overfull and it was a guarantee that the most delicate items where invariably now a mass of unidentifiable lumps in the bottom of the brown paper bags.  
  
'Why do I always say paper when they ask?" she lamented for the thousandth time.  
  
As she passed through the living room she threw her newly laundered dress over the back of the armchair nearest the door. Staggering into the kitchen with her load, she was pleasantly surprised to find it clean and tidy, and as promised the note from Dawn was tacked to the fridge door. She put the bags on the central counter and reached for the note.  
  
Hey Buffy,  
  
I'm so sorry for forgetting your dress and the groceries.  
I ordered pizza and left yours in the fridge. I know there'll be  
food at the party, but if I know you won't have eaten at all today.  
I'll call tomorrow morning to let you know when I'll be home.  
I had a quick cleanup. Here's Susanne's phone number. 555-2768  
Love you. Enjoy.  
Dawnie.  
  
*Wow a little guilt and we get instant housekeeping. Maybe she should forget stuff more often*  
  
Buffy reconsidered. It was nice Dawn had tidied and got some dinner but it didn't really make up for the inconvenience of having had to go to the drycleaners and then the grocery store. She had needed the time for study. She was doing well, only another ten months and with luck her degree would be finished, and her life could be her own again. But any more set backs and it would be another year and ten months before she could sit her final exams.  
  
She replaced the note on the refrigerator. Leaving the kitchen, she grabbed the dress from the chair and wandered down the hallway to her room. The house was basic but Xander's experience and hard work had made it open and homey. It had three bedrooms, the spare one of which Buffy used as her study, two bathrooms a kitchen with an accompanying laundry room, and a spacious living area. The backyard consisted of a small deck and an even smaller green patch.  
  
She hung the dress from her bedroom door and started a bath in the en suite bathroom. Liberally adding relaxing bath salts to the running water, she returned to the kitchen to pack away the shopping as her bath filled. She really should have a shower it'd be quicker. But the restorative effects of a bath were sorely needed. She noticed her answer -phone was flashing and pressed Playback.  
  
Bleep  
  
"Hey Buffy," Willow's voice rang out. "We're all coming over to your place tomorrow. No excuses. We know you've got the Ball tonight so we won't turn up too early. We'll let ourselves in. Xander's itching to prove his manliness with a demonstration of burning animal flesh over an open flame."  
  
In the background the sounds of Xander making caveman noises could be heard, along with Anya's pleased squeals and a statement that they would have to try the 'caveman drags woman back to cave scenario' complete with the leopard skin loincloth tonight.  
  
Buffy shuddered at the image. TMI. But she couldn't stop the little thought that rose in the back of her head. * They already have the loincloth? *  
  
". So make sure the barbecue's available. We'll bring everything else. "  
  
Then Willow's voice lowered to a whisper, "I've got something important to talk to you about. Toodles for now."  
  
Buffy glared at the innocent machine. The first time Willow had used the phrase 'I've got something important to talk to you about' she had come out of the closet. The last time was to tell Buffy that Parker had been cheating on her. That phrase was never followed without life changing information.  
  
Bleep.  
  
"Buffy hi. It's Angel." Buffy raised her eyebrows, she'd known Angel for four years now and every time he used the telephone he'd explain it was him. Didn't he think she had any vocal recognition abilities at all?  
  
"There's been a small change in plans. I'll be there at seven. See you then."  
  
A quick glance at the living room clock told her that she had only an hour to make herself presentable for the social and charitable occasion of the year.  
  
Whoever said charity begins at home was sorely mistaken she mused as she grabbed the cold pizza Dawn had left, and retreated to the bathroom. In all, the charity events she was required to attend as the escort of Angel Connor, only left her with a sense of emptiness. Sure, the rich people turned out and they gave their money, but so much of it was done only to be seen.  
  
Smiling rich men and women gave up cheques with the amount blatantly obvious, to causes they deemed worthy, in front of the city's media to promote themselves or make themselves feel good. Usually In the knowledge that they'd be paying twice that amount next week buying Randy junior the latest Beemer to replace the one he'd wrapped around the nearest lamppost after the last frat party.  
  
Much of the money did get to those that needed it but only after the organisers took their skim off of the top. There were so many charities that needed the money. At least with Angel she got to promote a few that were dear to her heart.  
  
After she finished her second slice of pizza she began to undress. She removed the sharp little business suit Hank insisted she wore to the office, and her undergarments. As she turned to shut off the taps she caught a glimpse of her nude reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She stood and for the first time in a long while took a good look at herself.  
  
There she was - Elizabeth Anne Summers.  
  
But Buffy had one small question. Who was she really? When she looked in the mirror she saw a petite blonde woman free of the baby fat that she had finally shifted during her time at college after joining a Tae Kwon- do class.  
  
But that was what she was, not who. Seven years ago she could have said who she was. An Art lover, a romantic, an idealist. An innocent. Now? Now she didn't have the faintest idea. Too much had changed.  
  
The humidity from the bath reached the mirror and, just briefly through the haze it created on the cold glass, she saw herself as she had been back then. A plain, overweight nineteen-year-old with glasses playing at being an adult.  
  
How did she ever really believe that HE had seen beyond the outward appearances? She'd seriously thought he had seen into her soul. She'd been naive and oh so very easy. He must have laughed himself sick reading her note that next morning, knowing she had given him her virginity. He probably thought he had done her a favour; certainly no one else had wanted it.  
  
As she stared at her reflection unbidden memories began to form.  
  
"Do you like it?" asked a nervous Buffy as she approached the young man with disorderly honey blonde curls that had been gazing at the sculpture hidden away against one side of the gallery wall.  
  
The man continued to peer at the abstract figure through his wire-rimmed glasses. "Excuse me?" he answered with an English accent, without turning.  
  
"Do you like it? This sculpture, do you like it? It's just you've been looking at it for the past ten minutes so I wondered if you liked it. Because I figured if you didn't like it then you probably wouldn't keep looking at it, and I'm rambling so I'll just go away now. Bye."  
  
Just as she turned to leave him to his intense scrutiny he spoke. "It has.passion."  
  
"It has?" she turned back to take another look at it.  
  
"Don't you think so?"  
  
"Well yes I do. But my thoughts aren't really relevant."  
  
"They're not? And why would that be?"  
  
"Well when you sculpt something you know what the piece is trying to tell you, but you never really know if you manage to capture that meaning or not. You're too close to it.."  
  
"You created this." he paused as if searching for the perfect word.  
  
"This what?" she asked warily, desperate to know what he thought.  
  
"This wonderful, majestic form."  
  
"Majestic? Really? Wow." Actually Buffy wasn't completely sure if the final wow in her sentence had been because of her reaction to his words of praise, or to the fact she'd just got her first good look at his face, more specifically the very blue eyes now looking at her.  
  
"May I ask your name? I'll keep an eye out for any future works you create. I am sure there will be many."  
  
"Beth Summers."  
  
"And I am William Calendar."  
  
Buffy mentally kicked herself *No. No more*. She climbed into the bath and placed all thoughts other than dress, shoes, hair and makeup out of her mind. She was good at denial. She'd had seven years of practice. She was completely oblivious to the fact that the hue of her dress matched perfectly the colour of William's eyes.  
  
Forty-five minutes later, a perfectly coiffed Buffy, slipped the blue silk dress over her head and fastened the side zipper. It had a simple bodice with tiny shoulder straps and reached just below her knees. Her hair was down and fashioned in soft waves. Nude stockings, a matching clutch purse and shoes, an elegant silver necklace with accompanying dangling earrings completed the look. Just as she turned to check her reflection the doorbell rang.  
  
She had known it.  
  
Angel was always early. 


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Buffy opened her front door to the view of Angel O'Connor, reputed womaniser and all round cad, passionately kissing Cordelia Chase, right there on her front doorstep.  
  
Buffy cleared her throat.  
  
There was no response from either party. Neither of them seemed to notice.  
  
She tried again with a stronger cough, only louder  
  
Nothing. What was she? Invisible?  
  
Finally, in a desperate attempt to gain their attention before she got old, or more importantly, the curl dropped from her hair, she spoke the words guaranteed to make both the couple in front of her spring apart as if burned.  
  
"Angel, your father's heading this way."  
  
It had the desired effect, as both of them pulled back and tried to make themselves look presentable. In the midst of re-tufting his hair Angel finally looked around and sheepishly smiled, realising that, omnipresent as his father appeared to be, it was unlikely he was camped out on Buffy Summers doorstep watching him kiss Cordelia.  
  
"Hey, Buffy."  
  
"Was that really necessary?" Angel's beautiful companion grabbed her compact out of her handbag and began re-applying her lipstick.  
  
"Hello to you too Cordy. And for your information I tried subtle. Not of the working."  
  
"So you just aimed below the belt?"  
  
"It worked didn't it." Buffy smiled unrepentantly. " Besides if I'd left the two of you any longer it would've been your hand below the belt."  
  
The tall brunette raised her eyebrows as she checked her hair in the little mirror in her hand. "Very funny."  
  
"I thought so."  
  
"You look nice Buffy," said Angel softy.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
She turned, locked the front door and headed down the stoop followed by her visitors.  
  
"Yeah, finally took my advice and tried a colour other than black. 'Though gotta say your skin looks a little dry. Have you been neglecting to moisturise again?"  
  
Buffy simply took her friend's comments in her stride. At Angel's gesture she headed to the waiting taxicab as she contemplated the rudeness that was Cordelia Chase. Once upon a time, a high school prom queen, cheerleader and all round social climber. Back at Sunnydale High she had been queen bitch to Buffy's art-loving geek but was now her good friend. Sometimes Buffy had to pinch herself to believe that little irony.  
  
She'd re-met Cordelia not long after her father's demand that she would be Angels escort. Hank had packed her off to the largest most exclusive department store in LA with strict instructions, and a gold credit card, to make herself as presentable to LA society as possible.  
  
She had run across Cordelia in the lingerie department and struck up a conversation with the strangely nervous Cordy, inquiring what she was up to these days. The usually outspoken Cordelia had given very evasive replies until the reason for her nervousness became obvious. A stern looking woman had approached them demanding that Cordelia "cease gossiping" with her friend and get back to work.  
  
After her boss had headed back to the sales counter, Cordelia had been very snappy and demanded that Buffy just take her best shot at poking fun at her situation, but Buffy had simply asked what had happened.  
  
Long answer short. Cordelia had been left virtually penniless when her father had been done for tax evasion. She hadn't been able to go to any of the colleges she been accepted to and was in LA as an aspiring actress, or more realistically a Shop Assistant. Buffy didn't laugh, for which Cordelia was greatly appreciative, and after a word with Cordy's superior where Buffy explained that she required her assistance as a personal shopper for a day, the two of them began a firm friendship. Since then Cordy had been Buffy's personal grooming advisor for such events as tonight's ball.  
  
"Cordy." The gentle tones of the tall man next to her reprimanded her fondly for her forthright comments, as he helped the two glamorous women into the backseat of the taxi and instructed the driver to their destination.  
  
After they were settled Buffy glanced quickly at the man in the front seat.  
  
Yep, there he was. Angel O'Connor. Still tall. Still handsome. Still broad of shoulder.  
  
Still not remotely attracted to him.  
  
It had come as a bit of a surprise to her that the notorious Angel O'Connor, with his reputation as lady's man with no sense of honesty or decency, had been the polar opposite of the gossip mongers' tales. Yes he was well built, if a little too bulky for her liking, and good looking. But he also had a certain vulnerability to him that no one had ever seemed to notice.  
  
On their first meeting, he'd been oddly relieved when she'd made it clear that these dates, set up by her father and his, were never going to be any more than a business arrangement. His sigh of relief had been so forceful she'd been afraid he' d sprung a leak  
  
It had been a case of mutual like, with neither party interested in the other, as anything other than a friend and that had suited the both of them.  
  
For three years Buffy and Angel had quite happily accompanied each other to functions, their individual freedom to live their own personal lives given to them under the umbrella of their "dates". Even with both sets of parents pushing them for some kind of official commitment, it was an advantageous arrangement.  
  
The arrangement had developed from a family arranged annoyance, to a mutually beneficial agreement and now it was a necessity. A necessity that neither of them liked and one that Cordelia Chase hated.  
  
Over a year ago Buffy had taken Cordy with her on a shopping trip and they had run into Angel.  
  
Cordelia and Angel together - now that had been love at first sight. Buffy had realised things were going to get tricky as soon as Angel had taken Cordy's hand in greeting.  
  
Before the imprisonment and social disgrace of her father, Cordelia Chase would have been considered a good match for the heir of the O'Connor family fortune. Now however, she was a social disgrace and both she and Angel knew that if they were to go public with their new relationship she'd be pegged a gold digger and he would be cut off from the family fortune.  
  
Buffy personally thought the whole thing incredibly stupid. If they wanted to be together they should just be together. But Angel had never done a proper days work in his life, and Cordelia wouldn't ask him to give up everything that she had been forced to. But they wouldn't part from each other either.  
  
So this was where Buffy found herself. Sitting in a cab, heading toward the charity ball, with her date in the front seat, and his wife sat in the back with her.  
  
Five months after her friends' first meeting, Buffy had found herself standing in a small chapel in Las Vegas as a witness to their impromptu marriage. The other witness was a drunk Angel had found in the hotel bar mourning his losses at the gambling tables.  
  
She was pretty sure this wasn't the wedding that Cordelia had always dreamed of, but the couple standing at the guitar shaped altar, in front of the worse Elvis impersonator she had ever seen, looked ridiculously happy.  
  
"Heir to the O'Connor Fortune wed by Elvis." Buffy had visions of the headlines. But neither the media nor the groom's family had found out and everything had gone back to normal. *Well, * Buffy remembered thinking at the time, *as normal as my life ever gets. *  
  
"Please excuse Cordelia," begged Angel with a teasing smile, ".she doesn't mean what she says."  
  
"Yes she does."  
  
"Yes I do."  
  
As both woman spoke in unison they turned to each other and smiled. It was an unlikely friendship but it worked.  
  
The short journey continued with Cordelia and Buffy catching up, but Buffy couldn't help but feel the underlying tension in the air. Angel and his wife were being their normal couply selves but there seemed to be just something hovering unspoken between them.  
  
As the tall building of O'Connor Holdings rose into view they all grew quiet and readied themselves for the charade that was about to begin.  
  
"Shall we?" asked Buffy, as the cab pulled up to the curb and she and Cordelia got out while Angel paid the cabby.  
  
He turned to his wife and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead as she smoothed out her floor length burgundy dress.  
  
"After you my love." He gestured for her to go ahead, a small sad smile on his face.  
  
"Be good you two, and Buffy, keep him out of trouble, " Cordelia ordered as she headed into the building to take the elevator to the penthouse function room.  
  
Angel watched his wife go with hooded eyes as Buffy commented, "She seems a bit upset and you look tense."  
  
Angel looked surprised that she'd had noticed it. "Is it that obvious?"  
  
"Only to those that know you. What's up?"  
  
There was a slight pause before he spoke again, "We're pregnant."  
  
"Oh." *Oh wow! A baby? * Buffy damped down the instant flash of jealously and pain as she tried to read his expression.  
  
When she couldn't, she went for the direct approach. "Isn't she happy about the baby? Aren't you?"  
  
"God Buffy." Angel ran his hands through his hair, as they moved into the building reception area to await the next lift.  
  
"We're both so damned happy about it, but. "  
  
"But what?"  
  
"We were going to tell my parents tonight. About us I mean. The whole marriage thing."  
  
"And now you're not?" Buffy followed him into the newly arrived elevator.  
  
Another frustrated and annoyed sigh filled the car as he stared up at the ceiling. "We had it planned. Cordy just got promoted. Her new Manager recommended her for a transfer to the Purchasing Department when he realised how much she knew about fashion..."  
  
Buffy was a little hurt that Cordy hadn't mentioned such good news but didn't interrupt as Angel continued.  
  
" .and I've saved some money from my job at Dad's firm, but we were relying on Cordy's money to allow us to finally live together. Damn it Buffy I can't even support my own wife! I have no talent. No skills. The only thing I ever learnt in school was that my father would have a job waiting for me. I'm wasting my life and now not only mine. I'm wasting Cordy's and the baby's as well. They deserve better than me. Why'd she let me do this to her?" Angel sagged his shoulders and bent his head low to avoid her searching eyes.  
  
Buffy reached up and placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. She had no words to make everything right. She had no control over her own life, so couldn't comment on anyone else's, but she did know one thing.  
  
"Angel." She squeezed his shoulder to try and gain his attention. Nothing.  
  
"Angel. Look at me."  
  
Slowly his head rose and he met her compassionate eyes.  
  
"Its very simple. Cordelia loves you. The baby will love you."  
  
"But I can't give them anything."  
  
"Can you give them love?"  
  
Angel stared at her. "Always." He stated at least he looked convinced of that.  
  
Buffy smiled softly "Well, doesn't that seem like anything?"  
  
*Okay *, she thought as Angel finally gave her a tight smile, * That didn't exactly solve the problem* but it was the best she could do at short notice because right then they reached the penthouse.  
  
The function room was decorated in a startling array of bad taste. Amid the fancy decorations and flower displays, Cordelia stood at the refreshment table watching overweening rich men and their little trophy wives mingling with the matrons and patriarchs of the wealthiest families, the so called cream of LA society.  
  
She couldn't help the thought that it wasn't only cream that rises to the top. And to think this used to be what she aspired to. Funny how selling underwear to these people had given her a different perspective on them.  
  
Instinctively knowing where her love was, she turned towards the elevator as her husband and friend exited. As she caught Buffy's eye and received a small smile and nod, she realised that she knew about the baby. She was a little mad she'd not got to be the one to tell her, but she had other things on her mind right now.  
  
She had been so happy that finally Angel was going to be honest and tell his parents about their marriage. She had been fine with the whole secrecy bit at first. It had been exciting and romantic to hide their love. The clandestine meetings and furtive glances had been exhilarating, but now she was just tired of it. She loved Angel but living apart, watching him cosy up with Buffy even if it was an act, having him pass her in a roomful of people without a glance, was enough to break her heart.  
  
Unconsciously her hand drifted to her stomach. And now this, this beautiful everyday miracle was stopping that honesty. She didn't know what to feel. She was so happy to be pregnant, but a little resentment toward the life growing inside her had snuck in. If it wasn't for this baby Angel would be telling his parents all about her right now. Letting them know that he was finally breaking free of their controlling influence, getting on with living his life and being with the woman he loved.  
  
Although the baby wouldn't prevent her taking the new job offer, it would put a serious crimp in their income while she was on maternity leave, and increase those pesky little household bills. That was the other reason she was annoyed. Angel seemed to have no real thought to getting a job of his own. He was too busy being, "Oh poor me. I'm a little rich boy. I never learnt to do anything." What did he think? That she woke up one day and said 'Hey whoopee, I'll be a shop assistant!' Really not.  
  
As she watched Angel and Buffy approach Mr & Mrs O'Connor to make their hellos she reached for the Beluga caviar. It would probably make her feel ill, but then hey, these days what didn't? She was jolted out of her reverie when the person standing next to her jostled her arm. Perfect, she so needed someone to gripe at.  
  
"Hey lamebrain, what's your major." as she turned the man's face came into view ".malfunc." and her voice drifted off in contemplation of the attractive features in front of her.  
  
As she stared open mouthed at the blond man in the tuxedo who just oozed self-confidence and predatory sex appeal, a little voice in the back of her head kept prodding at her. * You're married. You are married. Actually, to be accurate, you're married and pregnant. So he looks good in a tux. Any man can look good in well tailored, form flattering, expensive formal wear. Close mouth. Stop drooling. Remember to breathe. *  
  
The instructions were just about to have the take hold when he smirked. The bleached bombshell with the lickable cheekbones actually smirked. At her! Nobody smirked at Cordelia Chase-O'Connor. No-one. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when he spoke.  
  
"Sorry Luv. 'S my fault. Just dazzled by your beauty is all."  
  
* Oh boy. This guy doesn't play fair. A British accent. So, so not fair. *  
  
"Lovely lady like you shouldn't be getting her own plate. Where's your lucky bloke?"  
  
At the mention of her absentee husband Cordelia felt a jolt of petty revenge coming on and turning, shot arrows with her eyes at Angel. Let's see how he liked being on the receiving end of this tedious arrangement.  
  
"No 'bloke'. Just little me." She flashed her full wattage smile complete with award winning nose wrinkle.  
  
Spike had seen the look she'd directed at the Neanderthal looking guy across the room. The dolt remained oblivious, deep in conversation with the little blonde number whose back was to him.  
  
*Ah, so that's how it was *. He gave the attractive brunette a slow appreciative grin. "Well in that case luv, fancy a turn on the dance floor? I do a mean two-step. "  
  
He stepped closer to the woman slightly lowering his head to whisper more intimately into her ear. " Satisfaction guaranteed."  
  
Cordelia's inner voice kicked her again. *YOU'RE MARRIED. HELLO? *  
  
She promptly muted it. *At the moment,* she screamed back at it, * I don't care. I'm going to dance with the yummy Englishman, make my husband jealous and when he's as green as a .a. a green thing I'm going to take him to my place and tie him up until he agrees to tell his parents about us. So there. And as a bonus I get to spend a little time with a gorgeous man who is making me feel like the most desirable woman here. So there. Again!*  
  
"Love to."  
  
She placed her hand in his and he led her to the dance floor. He pulled her into a close embrace and smoothly began to lead her in a slow dance to the ballad playing by the live Jazz band.  
  
"So luv, who do I have the pleasure of dancing with?"  
  
"Cordelia. Cordelia Chase. And you are.no don't tell me.let me guess. You would be James Bond. Right?"  
  
Spike chuckled at that but it wasn't exactly an original comment. Stick an Englishman in a tux and that's all they could think of? All these American chits had no imagination. * Well, * he amended, * most of them had no imagination. *  
  
"Nah luv. They call me Spike."  
  
She was a little surprised. "They call you? Who they?"  
  
He shrugged. "Just 'They'."  
  
She raised her eyebrows a little at that. Okay so he wanted to be mysterious. Fine, it just added to the fun.  
  
As Spike twirled her from him in a nifty little dance move, she took the opportunity to glance in Angel's direction. Yep, there he was still talking to his parents. God Buffy looked bored. That at least was one upside to his parents not knowing about her. As his secret wife, rather than public date she didn't have to have her ear chewed off by his dull mother.  
  
Angel glanced in her direction. Oops he'd spotted her. She lowered her eyes.  
  
"So tell me Cordelia. Has it worked?"  
  
"Excuse me?" she looked back into her dance partner's eyes. *Ooh blue!*  
  
"Has it worked?" he repeated.  
  
At her continued bafflement he gestured toward Angel with his chin. "That moron you've been staring at since he got here and been trying to make jealous for the last five minutes. Has dancing with me had the desired effect?"  
  
Cordelia stopped dancing instantly contrite. Keeping his hand in hers she pushed through the crowd and dragged him from the dance floor towards a secluded alcove. In the past she may have been able to trample all over someone's feelings, but having been on the receiving end she had learnt her lesson - okay so the earlier lamebrain comment had been a momentary lapse but she was pregnant dammit. "Spike I'm so sorry. I really did want to dance with you it's just that. well that is I.you see it's like this."  
  
"You love him," he stated confidently, " but he's been ignoring you, so you wanted a little payback. "  
  
She stared at him open mouthed. She really should stop doing that around him.  
  
"No worries pet." He added smiling.  
  
While she continued to stare at him, he took her hand and bent to kiss her cheek. As he brushed his lips across her skin, she heard a low whisper. "Yankin' me off the dance floor was a good move, pet. If tall, dark and broody is your man it worked just fine. He's heading this way."  
  
With a genuine smile Cordelia nodded her thanks and turned to her approaching husband. *Oh yeah, paybacks a bitch, eh Angel? Actually no, that would be me. * She briefly noticed that Buffy was trying to head her way too but she was obviously having difficultly getting away from the 'mother-in-law'.  
  
"Cordy, is this guy bothering you?" Angel tried to use his height over the shorter man as an intimidation tactic. Oddly it just made Spike look far more relaxed and at home than Angel did at his own party.  
  
"Me? Nah mate. The lady and I were just having ourselves a little dance," Spike turned back to Cordelia completely unfazed, ".and a lovely one it was too. Goodnight Cordelia."  
  
"Night Spike. Thank you." She called after him as he wandered off into the crowd with a final nod.  
  
Cordelia saw the look on her love's usually passive face. "Uh ah mister. Don't give me the hurt puppy dog eyes. I didn't do anything wrong and neither did he. It was just a dance."  
  
"But."  
  
"But me no buts."  
  
"'Lia, he had his arms around you. and our baby." He whispered as he went to gather her close into his body. She knew she'd gotten to him when he used his special nickname for her.  
  
"Angel." Cordy pushed him away a little. "Everyone will see!"  
  
"I don't care anymore."  
  
She looked at him incredulously, as Buffy reached them after finally escaping Angel's mother.  
  
"But you said. you said we had to wait."  
  
He hung his head, deeply ashamed of himself for making her wait so long. "Not any more. Tonight we tell them. About you. About us. About the baby. We'll tell them everything."  
  
"But what about the money? Honey, we'll have no income when the baby comes. We can't do this."  
  
"Do you think you'll like your new job Lia?"  
  
She was completely thrown by this apparent change in the direction of the conversation. "Huh? Angel what does.?"  
  
"Do you think you'll like your job?"  
  
"Are you kidding? Buying clothes all day, everyday. Getting to play with all those lovely accessories. What's not to love?"  
  
"Fine then. You work. I'll look after the baby."  
  
"Okay now I'm back to the Huh?"  
  
"I'll look after the baby. Maybe if I'm around a little more than my dad was my son will be a better person than I am."  
  
"You are a good person Angel. And hey, she might be a girl."  
  
"No I'm not. Cordelia if I'd been good and strong, you wouldn't have to have waited so long for this. And he's going to be a boy. So, are you ready to give it a try?"  
  
"Yes." Cordelia sent a thought of thanks in the direction of a certain bleached blonde miracle worker.  
  
"Good, then we'll tell them tonight."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Buffy had watched this display of love with tears threatening to spill, she hadn't come over with the intention to eavesdrop on such an important conversation but only to keep up the façade as Angel's girlfriend for their sakes. Angel accosting a strange woman in a room full of his peers may have aroused suspicion from a bored crowd.  
  
Fortunately for them, millionaire playboy Joshua Hamilton was trying to mediate a blazing row between current wife number four and his latest girlfriend. Although the consequences weren't as damaging as the possible outcome from anyone overhearing the scene in front of her, it had a lot more entertainment value with possible hair pulling and eye gouging, than the three of them huddled near the wall talking in hushed tones.  
  
As it was this impending argument had been the only reason she'd been able to get away from Jennifer O'Connor in the first place. Having heard the conversation however Buffy couldn't help herself from making a comment.  
  
"Guys. Look, not to be the poop to this party or anything, but how far along are you Cordy?"  
  
"Ten weeks."  
  
"Really? Congratulations." Buffy was excited for them but had to add, " But how about telling your parents later Angel? That way if they do react the way you think they will, what with the disinheritance and all, you'll have a little more money set aside before Cordelia has to stop work."  
  
"Oh Buffy! Do you have to be so sensible?" Huffed Cordelia.  
  
"I know it puts the kybosh on things a little. But babies are expensive. Think about it a bit." She couldn't help the little thought that added *10 weeks is still very early in a pregnancy and things sometimes go wrong. *  
  
"Damn you for being so practical. The old Buffy was far more romantic."  
  
*Yes she was, * Buffy mentally agreed *and look where that got her. *  
  
"So we wait a little? That okay with you Lia?" Angel asked. He really did want to tell his folks now, but what Buffy had said did make sense.  
  
"It's fine. So long as we do tell them. If you change your mind Angel, I'll hunt Spike down again. You hear me Mister?"  
  
At his nod she let the subject drop as more pressing matters arose. "So how about something to eat I'm starved. Spike interrupted me before I could grab anything." She turned to her friend.  
  
" Buffy? Buffy?"  
  
Cordelia realised she had drifted off somewhere. Not physically because she was standing right next to her, but mentally she seemed a world away as she stared off in the direction Spike had taken.  
  
"Buffy? Are you ok? Buffy?"  
  
Buffy was trying very hard to process something. It had been something she'd seen. There was a strange little niggle at the back of her mind. Something had set her out of kilter and she couldn't place what it was. Or could she?  
  
"Cordy who were you dancing with?"  
  
"Some guy called Spike. Hey did you get a good look at him?"  
  
When Buffy shook her head she continued. "Boy he was fine. Nicely muscled, lean, smelt great, not too sure about the bleached hair, but fabulous blue eyes and man could he move."  
  
"Hey honey, I am standing right here you know." Stated Angel with a slightly hurt tone.  
  
"I know. And I also know who I'm going home with, so shush." She smiled back at him.  
  
"Oh and the best part, he had an accent."  
  
The something in Buffy's mind nudged her to ask "What kind?"  
  
"British, and his voice was low and so very sexy."  
  
"Hey I am still standing right here!"  
  
*So he was English so what? There were Englishmen all over the world. Okay, okay, so mostly they're in England but that wasn't the point. An Englishman in LA wasn't that unusual. It didn't mean it was him.* Besides she had told the truth to Cordy, she hadn't had a good look at him, but she had seen the shock of platinum blonde hair as he moved off into the crowd and she didn't know anyone stupid enough to dye their hair that colour. *So why did this niggle?*  
  
Buffy suddenly realised what it was. The way he moved! When this Spike had disappeared into the crowd, she'd had a brief flash of recognition for the way he walked. But she didn't know a Spike. She'd met a lot of people in England, but she was fairly certain a bleached blonde with the name of Spike and the physical attributes Cordy had described would have stayed in her memory.  
  
Was this Spike still here?* She scanned the crowd. * Where was he?*  
  
She needed to circulate anyway and if she happened to see anyone meeting Cordy's description, she'd be able to thank him on behalf of her friends. Because whether he had meant to, or not, he had finally given them the strength to be together.  
  
As he left Cordelia on the edge of the dance floor with the 'hair-gel' bloke, Spike headed towards the lift and pulled out his mobile phone.  
  
Irritated with the bow tie he pulled it sharply to undo it and ripped the top few studs of his dress shirt open. *Bloody penguin suit. Fed up with the damn thing. * Too restricting and the damn shoes made his ankles swell. *Oh yeah Spike, * he told himself, *say that out loud. It's so very manly. *  
  
He dialled and while he waited for the owner to answer he pressed the down arrow for the lift. He leant his back against the wall and ran his hands over his tired eyes. Bleedin' contacts. They would've been alright if he hadn't had to put them back in for the appointment he'd gone to earlier this evening. Vanity thy name is Spike. Just as he was about to give up on anyone answering the phone a sultry female voice answered.  
  
"Hello, Jo speaking."  
  
"'Lo luv it's me."  
  
"Spike, how you doing handsome?"  
  
"Just neat. Look, tell Mick I'm done here, I did this job as one last favour. So you tell him to get his poncy arse over here ASAP 'cos I'm done and his shift is due. I've just made one last lady very happy. So me? I'm all done now. Understand?"  
  
"Understood sweetpea, but you can tell him yourself, he shoulda got there by now, he left thirty minutes ago."  
  
Spike was just about to tell her that he hadn't seen him, when the strong voice of his now ex employer could be heard trying to control the fallout from some sort of scuffle in the Main Hall. "Yeah he's here luv, but I'm still going to let you tell him. I'm off."  
  
"Okay sexy. I'll send your cheque onto you at your address. Okay babe?"  
  
"Fine. Hey Jo thanks. Sorry I snapped at you luv."  
  
"It's nothing, but if you want to make it up to me, you could come over and make me the last lady you make happy."  
  
"Sorry luv, got me someone waiting at home."  
  
"Fine, thrown over once again. Have a good night, you hear."  
  
"Will do Jo. Bye."  
  
"Bye Hon."  
  
Just as he rang off, the lift arrived. He entered and selected reception, as his thoughts briefly flicked back to the situation with Cordelia.  
  
Getting wandering boyfriends to pay attention to their girls wasn't exactly in his job description, but as of Monday he had a new job so he didn't care. Actually he hadn't cared before that. He hoped it had all worked out fine, but for some reason when ever he thought back to the look on Hair-gel's face, all he could picture was the back of the tiny fair-haired woman he'd been chatting away to. He'd only glanced that way once or twice, but for some reason her figure wouldn't leave his head. *That's it mate; you are officially off your bird. Home, bed and a relaxing weekend. Then let's see what we can do to accommodate the needs of the lovely Miss Rosenberg. * 


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
A tired Buffy awoke to the less than dulcet vocalizations of Xander Harris belting out the words to an overplayed pop song outside her window. Extraordinary construction supervisor he may be, Celine Dion he was not.  
  
She peered blurrily at the alarm clock on her bedside table. Squinting, she could just make out the time as 10:06. *This is Willow's idea of not too early? * Did the evil witch not have a clue as to what time she'd managed to drag herself away from the party?  
  
As eager as the three of them had been to leave, Angel and Buffy had got caught by his parents again and Cordelia, in the meantime, had devoured virtually a quarter of the buffet.  
  
They had dutifully applauded as donator after donator had paraded their cheques in front of the waiting press reporters. Wisely, after last years fight between Josh Hamilton's third wife and girlfriend of that particular moment, the press cameras had been banned.  
  
She had danced with the rich men, the hangers on and the ubiquitous ass pinchers, all the while keeping an eye out for a person called Spike. * Really what sort of person was called Spike?* Not to be outdone a little voice in the back of her mind asked. Why do you get called Spike?* Certain naughty little images popped up.  
  
After saying her farewells, and getting a cab back to her house, she had crawled into bed at the ridiculous hour of four am. And now, as a wake up call she had the dawn chorus of Xander singing 'My Love Shall Go On" as he set up the BBQ.  
  
If she heard one more refrain, Xander would discover waking her this early, would remove any prospect he had of his life going on.  
  
She stuck her head under her pillow in an effort to drown out the appalling noise and in a vain attempt to get some more sleep, when a suspiciously chipper redhead stuck her head around the bedroom door.  
  
"Morning Buffy." Sang Willow happily.  
  
"Willow, tell me you didn't have caffeine. Please." Begged a muffled voice.  
  
"I didn't have caffeine."  
  
"Okay. Now tell me the truth."  
  
"I had caffeine."  
  
Buffy with her face down on the bed threw the pillow at her friend with unerring accuracy considering she didn't even look. "Will, you promised. No more mochaccinnos, the sugar-caffeine rush is too much for you."  
  
Willow entered the room and sat down on the bed. "I got you one."  
  
Buffy's head lifted at lightening speed as her hand made a grab for the polystyrene container in Willow's hand. "You are a Goddess." She whispered as she supped the heavenly concoction and waited for the rush. *Ah legalised additive stimulant. The best.*  
  
She watched warily as Willow got up and headed to the window. Remembering her words from the phone message last night, she was about to ask what was going on when Willow spoke. "Xander's here."  
  
"Yeah I heard. What's with the sudden burst of Celine anyway? And is it justifiable homicide if I kill him for it?"  
  
"Anya. And no." Willow giggled.  
  
"She here too?"  
  
"Oh yes. You know Xander and Anya. Joined at the hips." Willow looked at Buffy as they shuddered at the scary place they had both just visited.  
  
Both friends had mixed feelings regarding Xander's new girlfriend, Anya. The two of them had met when Xander had joined her father's construction consultancy over six years ago. Anya had been very forthright in her pursuit of this 'new addition' and even now, memories of conversations referring to "interlocking bodies", made them cringe.  
  
Oddly it had been Xander who had resisted the development of their relationship, although it was obvious he was attracted to the beautiful blonde/ brunette/ redhead whose hair colour and style managed to change at least once a month. Xander had finally found himself a place where he fitted and he wasn't going to let dating the boss's daughter be the reason for, or against his success. He was going to do it on his own and for four years he had held Anya off, which only seemed to make her more determined to have him.  
  
When he finally made junior partner that was when all hell broke loose. Let's just say four years of pent up passion and sexual tension being released was going to spill over into most situations, and Anya's complete openness regarding all things, but specifically sex, made for some startling revelations that were best left unsaid, or in some unfortunate cases, unseen.  
  
How Anya ever made it to her position as a promising new architect, without deeply embarrassing or scaring away clients they would never know. They had no doubt of her talent, she was innovative and determined, it was just her people skills that were frightening and her love for money, and her quest for orgasms... the list went on. So finally they had admitted it between themselves. They didn't think Anya was good enough for Xander. But then to be honest, no one was going to be good enough for him, and they knew for a fact he felt no one would ever be good enough for his favourite girls.  
  
"It is kind of nice that he's found someone who, you know, loves him." Willow admitted somewhat reluctantly.  
  
Buffy nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but does she have to love him everywhere? I'm still finding it hard to use my washing machine after the time I found them in the laundry room waiting for the spin cycle."  
  
"Jealous much?" Teased Willow with raised eyebrows as she returned to sit beside Buffy.  
  
"Oh yeah." sighed Buffy.  
  
"Yeah me too."  
  
Buffy looked closely at her friend detecting the slight sadness in her eyes. " So no luck with Willow lovage?"  
  
Willow shrugged her shoulders with a moue of disappointment. "There's someone I'm interested in, but it's difficult."  
  
Buffy nudged her shoulder with her own. "Hey. I told you before. I'm very flattered but I don't see you that way."  
  
This elicited the tried for laugh. "Sweetie, you don't know what you're missing."  
  
At this both girls started to roll around on the bed giggling and tickling each other, their empty cups falling to the floor. Oh yeah the sugar rush had arrived.  
  
Xander Harris chose that exact moment to enter the bedroom and halted with an audible gulp. The young women stopped at the sudden intrusion, looked towards him, then back to each other with an identical evil twinkle in their eyes.  
  
They turned their attention back to the brunette, and with a come hither look, Buffy draped one of her arms over Willow's shoulder and began caressing a lock of her russet hair, as Willow placed her hand suggestively on Buffy's knee, trailing her index finger in small patterns.  
  
"Hey Xand. Wanna join us?" asked Willow in the most seductive voice she could muster.  
  
"Hell yeah." And he dove onto the bed, tickling the teasing minxes for all they were worth.  
  
The three friends finally collapsed, exhausted from the caffeine and sugar induced tickle-fest they'd just enjoyed. They hadn't been that stupid in a long while.  
  
Buffy muttered a happy, "I've missed you guys." as Anya wandered through the door.  
  
"Is the orgy over? Because there's couple of tall, glowery brunette people at the front door."  
  
Buffy hopped up quickly from her completely destroyed bed covers and headed to the shower. "It's Angel and Cordy. I invited them last night. God they're early. Can you let them in and make them feel welcome? I'll be down in a few."  
  
"Angel and Cordy? Cordy? As in Cordelia Chase? As in queen bitch of Sunnydale High?" Asked a baffled Xander.  
  
"Yep" came Buffy's voice, muffled by the intervening door, "and they're my friends. So play nice Xander. We're not in high school anymore. We are responsible adults." She thought back to the spur-of-the-moment tickle escapade as she undressed for the shower. "Okay most of the time we're responsible adults. So play nice Xand. Please."  
  
She heard a rather petulant. "I will if she will." As she stepped under the shower.  
  
Suitably clean, awake and dressed comfortably in a worn pair of jeans and old sweatshirt Buffy skipped down the stairs and into the relaxing atmosphere of her kitchen. Her friends were all settled around the counter supping orange juice or coffee. She headed towards the kettle but before she could reach it a hand placed a cup of her favourite tea in hers. She smelt the smokey aroma of the Lapsang Souchong and smiled her thanks at Willow. Okay now she was really suspicious. Willow only made her tea when something was up.  
  
True to their word, her friends had brought with them all the required elements of a fabulous cookout. There were the makings of a salad, large foil wrapped potatoes for baking, huge juicy looking steaks and absurd quantities of alcohol. There was enough for everyone even including the extra couple.  
  
Although there was the occasional mumble from Xander that he wouldn't have any steaks to take home now.  
  
The morning was spent in a pleasant haze, lounging around, eating fresh pastries and fruit salad. Simply enjoying each other's company, relaxing and talking. *Just what the doctor ordered, * thought Buffy, *or he would have if I ever got the time to see him. *  
  
She was happy that Angel and Cordy mixed in with the rest of her friends so well. She had worried about her "two worlds" combining, but as she had danced with Angel last night she had felt that is was time to bring them together. She couldn't really explain why she had kept them apart. So she had asked him if he and Cordelia would like to come over the next day. Angel had surprised her by saying yes. And as she had pondered his answer, she had wondered why she had still continued to look for the Englishman Cordy had described. It was obvious he had been long gone, so why had she kept looking? And why was he there at all?  
  
The day progressed, and when people other than Xander, who was always hungry, expressed an interest in eating, they moved into the garden. The first of many bottles of wine and beer were opened as Xander and Angel gathered together, in the great honoured tradition of men everywhere when confronted with the exciting prospect of playing with fire, around the barbeque.  
  
Dawn arrived home pulling a shy Andrew behind her. They were just in time to see the two males narrowly avoid losing their eyebrows, as an exciting pall of blue flame lit the coals as the lighter fluid ignited. The proud males were upset when their achievement was met with a flurry of giggles from the woman folk, who just couldn't contain their laughter at the sight of the two smoke blackened faces, and slunk off like little boys  
  
The guys returned cleaner and showing a newfound camaraderie 'that could only be forged in the face of death' claimed a slightly intoxicated and overexcited Xander.  
  
While waiting for the marinated meat to cook, Buffy assembled the salad at the deck table and, as her concentration drifted from conversation to conversation, she continued to watch for an opportunity to corner her sneaky friend.  
  
Cordelia and Anya were having a deeply involved conversation regarding their respective sex lives.  
  
"What I want to know is how I'm expected to get in that position with a giant beach ball in my stomach?" lamented Cordy, expressing only one of the many problems she foresaw with making love while heavily pregnant.  
  
Stopping the conversation with a raised finger Anya disappeared for a moment into the house and returned clutching her bag. To Cordy's surprise she presented her with a sex manual. "Pages 91 to 105 are good positions for sex when expecting. Of course they're also extremely stimulating when you're not. Xander and I are going to do position 42 in the advanced section later on tonight while we role-play 'the caveman and the captured virgin'. He has a leopard print loincloth and I've purchased a furry bikini which I have great expectations of him removing with his teeth."  
  
Buffy didn't even know that Cordelia Chase could blush, let alone that much, when Anya started to describe some of her personal favourites.  
  
Angel and Xander's conversation was heavily sports related and Buffy's interest waned quickly from hearing talk of eligible receivers, sacking and men in motion. It was far too testosterone ridden for her, and quite honestly, sounded like it had a little too much in common with Anya and Cordy's discussion.  
  
She watched, getting increasingly annoyed as Willow and Dawn whispered excitedly in each other's ears, looking for all the world like guilty schoolgirls.  
  
*Willow's wily. Like Wile E Coyote,* thought Buffy.*Wait a minute. No. No it was the roadrunner that was the smart one. Out running every trap set by the inept canine.* Buffy could sympathise with his despair of ever catching that elusive bird because Willow had out witted every move she'd made in an attempt to get her to spill the beans about this 'something' she had to tell her. She had let it go for the better part of the day. *Okay, but enough is enough.*  
  
Buffy got up from the table, grabbed Willow's hand and dragged her back into the house. It was time to find out exactly what was going on.  
  
Willow had seen Buffy getting more and more antsy and knew pretty soon she was going to have to come clean. She should have told Buffy as soon as she saw her. She'd had every intention of doing so when she'd taken her the coffee. Problem was, she knew Buffy wasn't exactly going to be happy clappy about this, and had chickened out big time.  
  
Then when she found out Cordy and Angel were here she really didn't want them to witness this. So of course being the self-assured, non-evasive, intelligent person she was, she then managed to avoid her friend's not so subtle hints to tell her what was going on. She had gotten Buffy worked up into a complete lather, and because she hadn't told her out right, it was going to be ten times worse.  
  
"Okay Willow time to 'fess up. What did you have to tell me? What's all the whispering and giggling?"  
  
Willow saw a sudden thought seem to flit through her eyes. "Oh my. Willow, you're not interested in Dawn are you? 'Cos I know she likes boys; at least I'm fairly sure it's boys. "  
  
"Whoa, Buffy relax. No I'm not interested in Dawn, not like that. We were talking about Andrew. She likes him. And hey. Why shouldn't I be interested in Dawn?"  
  
"Honey that wasn't what I meant, I just didn't want you to be hurt. And she's interested in Andrew? .Really? He seems kinda.gay?"  
  
"Yeah well, apparently he's not."  
  
"How would she know? You know what don't tell me. We've had the talk. I trust her." Willow saw Buffy's obvious distress that Dawn hadn't confided in her, but then again when was she around to talk to about these sorts of things. Hopefully this 'project' would rectify the time Buffy had available for herself and Dawn.  
  
"Okay Willow. So if you being interested in Dawn isn't what you had to tell me. What is it? I'm fairly sure you can't tell me my boyfriend's cheating on me this time, 'cos he's sitting in my back yard with his wife. So spill, Missy."  
  
Willow took a deep breath and braced herself for Hurricane Buffy.  
  
"Well you see it's like this."  
  
As Buffy dragged a reluctant Willow into the house, her co-conspirators, Xander, Anya and Dawn watched and waited for the inevitable explosion. This meant their conversations abruptly stopped, and a confused Cordelia asked, "What's going on? "  
  
"Willow's about to tell Buffy she's hired her a man to relieve her stress." Anya stated matter of factly, "They're waiting for her head to explode."  
  
"Ahn, you promised." Whined her boyfriend, " I told you, only on the agreement you wouldn't tell anyone."  
  
"You said I couldn't tell Buffy. You never said anything about telling anyone else." Reasoned a literal Anya.  
  
Cordelia and Angel looked at each other, none the wiser as to what was going on, while Andrew simply continued playing on the Gameboy he'd brought with him.  
  
"Anya." before Xander had the opportunity to try and explain that telling anyone was wrong, the expected conflagration exploded and the raised voice of an extremely annoyed Buffy Summers resounded out into the garden, and if the volume was anything to go by, probably throughout the entire neighbourhood.  
  
"You did what, now, why?!"  
  
"I think she took that better than I expected," stated a shocked Xander after his ears stopped ringing, looking at the stunned faces of the group.  
  
Dawn looked at him, shaking her head. "Let's see if Willow's still alive. Then, if we live through the next ten minutes, it'll have gone better than expected."  
  
"Xander. Explain." demanded Cordelia.  
  
After Xander outlined the plan Willow had devised and the reasoning behind it. The five interested people, and Andrew, settled down to wait for the damage report after the storm had passed.  
  
Only a few streets away a tired and aggravated Spike wandered around the smallish house, finally having escaped the over eager realtor woman. After dodging many inappropriate touches, and attempts on her behalf to give him her phone number, Spike had finally asked her to let him get a feel for the place by himself.  
  
The property was fairy basic and it wasn't much bigger than the flat. But it did have a third bedroom, a separate kitchen and most importantly a back garden that he was currently watching his roommate run around in, as if he'd never seen grass or daylight before.  
  
"Well?" asked the Realtor, unable to leave him alone for more than a few moments.  
  
"It's small. There's barely any garden."  
  
"Garden? Oh the backyard. You know your accent is so sexy."  
  
Spike stepped away from the groping hand reaching for his arm.  
  
As if realising she might be losing a sale with her unwanted attentions she switched back into business mode. "It's a great neighbourhood, everyone's friendly and it's very."  
  
Unfortunately for her at that moment a loud banshee like shriek echoed throughout the house, ".quiet." She looked incredibly annoyed at the obvious contradiction the loud screech had made of her sales pitch.  
  
Spike gave a wicked smile amused at her discomfort. "Sounds like my sort of place. Let's sort out the details."  
  
He walked back into his new home with a partially satisfied real estate agent behind him. The moue she affected was unnecessary for him to realise she was disappointed he hadn't taken any of her hints regarding a deal of a more personal nature. She'd have to resign herself to just having to have the commission from the sale of the house. * Much better than the apartment. * he added mentally.  
  
Willow sat on the couch watching Buffy pace back and forth in front of her. She took a deep breath, thanking whatever deity was looking over her for the small reprieve from the Wrath of Buffy, * Or maybe not, * she thought as Buffy turned towards her and sat on the coffee table to face her.  
  
"Explain to me again, exactly what you did, Willow. "  
  
Willow gulped, " I hired you a Personal Assistant."  
  
"Why exactly would you do that?" asked Buffy in a deceptively sweet voice.  
  
"I thought you could use the help. You're always so busy. This is the first time in an age that we've managed to spend any amount of time together. Dawn said you were having trouble fitting in your studies around the amount of work Hank was getting you to do."  
  
"Dawn was in on this?" At Willows reluctant nod Buffy whispered "Traitor," and continued to mutter under her breath about interfering friends and disloyal family members.  
  
"So you think I can't cope, is that it? That I'm unable to take care of Dawn properly?"  
  
"No. It's nothing like that. Look Buffy. You have coped extraordinarily well since Joyce's death. Having to work, look after Dawn and study. But you don't have any time for you. When was the last time you went down to the beach? Or had the time to go to the movies with Dawn? When did you last do any sculpting?" She noticed Buffy flinch at the last question.  
  
"Buffy you do everything for everyone else and nothing for yourself. All we are trying to do is give you some time to be you. This PA will be able to help you at work and maybe run a few personal errands for you." Willow watched to see if she was buying this in anyway. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth by a long shot. Buffy didn't need to know about his additional orders.  
  
"No."  
  
"No? No to what?"  
  
"No I wont have a PA. I can manage my responsibilities by myself."  
  
"Tough. I already hired him."  
  
"Him? It's a him? And how the hell can you hire somebody for me? Who do you expect to pay him?"  
  
"You will, or at least your company will."  
  
"No way. "  
  
"There's been an allocation in the personnel budget since you joined the firm to hire a PA, you just never did."  
  
"How exactly did you find that out Willow? No, don't tell me you hacked into the company computer to try and ruin my life." Buffy stood and resumed her pacing, every tense step screaming her growing agitation that everyone felt the need to meddle in her life.  
  
"Oh don't be so dramatic. " Willow watched the blonde scurry back and forth on the living room carpet. "I didn't need to hack. Your stubbornness seems to have made you forget my company has the contract for the Computing Division. I know everything your computers know."  
  
Buffy stopped, realising something obvious, "I'll just fire him."  
  
"You can't."  
  
"What?" She turned to look at the woman on the couch.  
  
"You can't. He's hired under a contract to my company. He's got a six- month probation period. If you really don't want him after that time then I'll let him go."  
  
"You've thought of everything, "Buffy turned her back on her annoyed.  
  
"I've tried." She agreed.  
  
"Which of my so-called friends are in on this?"  
  
Now Willow really was angry with her stubborn friend.  
  
"That's enough!" Willow stood up, uncharacteristically letting her anger show, as she continued to talk to Buffy's tense back.  
  
"Your 'so-called friends' have watched you cope with everything life's thrown at you. You've been brilliant. But we hurt when you hurt. Every year we watch you go into a depression. You won't tell us why. You won't let us help. We've had enough Buffy. We are sick of seeing you like this. You will accept this PA. He will help you and you will take time to enjoy life before you work yourself to death. Is this really the life you think your mother would want for you?"  
  
"That's low." Buffy pouted at her as she turned.  
  
"Yes it is. Buffy we're only doing this because we love you. Now you can be stubborn, you can be mad at us and you can sulk. But come Monday morning Spike Giles will be your personal assistant."  
  
"Spike?!"  
  
Willow watched with interest and not some little alarm, as her friend's mouth clamped shut after that loud exclamation, and she slumped into the nearest armchair.  
  
* What on earth did I say to shut Buffy up so quickly? * She was so absorbed in her thoughts she almost missed her friend's capitulation and the small answering voice.  
  
"'kay."  
  
"Spike?!"  
  
The high-pitched shriek attracted the crew on the deck. Andrew was so startled he dropped his game and fumbled for the escaped batteries.  
  
Their interest had been diverted from the goings on inside the house, as the steaks became ready, and Cordelia, with the impatient appetite of an expectant mother, had demanded she be allowed to eat. Xander had quickly agreed and everyone had tucked in.  
  
Cordelia was the first to react. "Spike? As in blonde English Spike?"  
  
"I don't know, but Willow did say she'd met him at a Computer Conference. Come to think of it she did mention he was British. That's the same thing right?" asked Xander  
  
"Close enough, honey." nodded his girlfriend.  
  
"Actually." started Andrew pedantically, but stopped, distracted when Dawn handed him back his fixed game boy.  
  
Cordelia couldn't help her grin.  
  
"What's so funny?" asked her husband, "Cordy, it's 's unlikely that it's the same man."  
  
"Oh come on Angel, how many Englishmen called Spike do you think there are working in LA?"  
  
"Wait, you've met this guy?" Asked Dawn interested. "What's he like?"  
  
Cordelia described him to them.  
  
"He sounds delicious," observed Dawn dreamily  
  
"Oh he is, and believe me Buffy's going down."  
  
At Anya's overly interested look, she amended. "Figuratively speaking. This guy is very astute, he's not gonna let Buffy stonewall him like she has us in the past. This is going to be fun."  
  
"Cordy I don't think Buffy needs confrontation right now, she's in a very delicate place." Angel interrupted.  
  
"Angel, my love. Our Buffy is many things, but delicate is not one of them. " A slow grin graced her features. "I stand by what I said. This is going to be fun." 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Monday morning 08:50  
  
Buffy paced around her corner office, stopping every few minutes to check the time on the clock on her office wall. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweaty and she was having a little trouble breathing properly.  
  
Spike Giles would be here in ten minutes and she was nervous.  
  
She'd given in to Willow and accepted that she should at least meet this Spike Giles, and there was still in the back of her mind the thought that he might be the Spike character that had been taking up way too much of her thinking time recently. Dammit she'd never even met the guy and yet, here she was, completely nervous about seeing him, even if it was only to put her plan into operation. At least she could rid her brain of all the annoying thoughts if she did this. It probably wasn't him anyway  
  
Willow must have suspected she'd given in too easily but as it had hit her that it might be him, she'd agreed without conscious thought.  
  
The thing was, Willow hadn't realised what it was Buffy was agreeing to.  
  
Willow told me I could be stubborn, mad and could sulk, well believe me I'm going to do all three.  
  
She'd spent the rest of Saturday being perfectly civil and pleasant to her traitorous, back stabbing friends. After all she didn't want to give the game away too early on. As she and Willow had gone back into the garden and dug into the meals that Dawn had put aside for them, she'd had listened to Cordy continue to rave about the God that was Spike and she'd had plotted and schemed.  
  
She took a quick glance at the office clock. Dammit, 08.52. Why is time going so slow?  
  
Flash back Saturday  
  
Buffy sat sullenly eating the wonderful meal her traitorous friends had prepared and listened, with half an ear, to the conversation continuing around her, about her new PA.  
  
Dawn especially seemed excited and started to make all sorts of plans for them to spend some more time together. She excitedly scheduled a trip to the mall and only by years of practice of biting her tongue, did Buffy manage to keep back a response that Dawn only wanted her for her gold card. Dawn didn't deserve that. She just wanted to spend some time with her. Buffy mused that it would be the perfect opportunity to get her younger sister to confide in her over this Andrew guy.  
  
Buffy snuck a quick sideways glance at the unassuming blonde man sitting with his Game Boy. *Oh boy, he just has to be gay. * She was suddenly astounded when she saw a look of undisguised adoration on his face, when he snuck his own quick look at her laughing sister.  
  
*Okay.really not gay. *, smiled a less sullen Buffy, happy that maybe her sister had found someone who simply worshipped her. However, there might be a little more to it, 'cos as soon as Dawn looked over to him, he quickly averted his gaze, and studiously attended to his game. *Oh yeah, mutual attraction, with neither one willing to make a move, this was going to be fun to watch.*  
  
Buffy berated herself for wandering off the current problem and re- focused back on this Spike guy. There had to be a way to get rid of HIM. Oh she had nothing against him personally, she was sure he was a perfectly fine person, who had unfortunately got caught up in her witch of a friend's connivances.  
  
And her friends. Well she wasn't very fond of them right now.  
  
*How dare they think I can't cope. Sure I hated my job at first, but I learned to do it well, and I'm damn good at it.  
  
Okay I didn't like being blackmailed into taking it, but it lets me support Dawn. And about Dawn. She's got no complaints about the way I raised her, or does she? I know I wasn't always around for her all the time. But she has school and all her friends, and the dancing. Come September she'll be off to college to do her own thing. That's all good. Isn't it?  
  
And I'm managing to study. So, it's taking longer than it would've, and it's not really convenient to work a full time job and do all the required reading and course work.  
  
What if I don't have the time to sculpt. It's not like I was particularly good at it anyway .  
  
//"This wonderful, majestic form."//  
  
.oh shut up.  
  
Okay think Buffy think. You can't fire him, and I'm assuming he'll know that. Willow must have told him. Maybe I could just ignore him. I could just get him to sit at his desk all day and I'll never have to talk to him, and he'll never get in my way. That's not a bad idea. Or how about I completely over work him, but then I'd actually have to deal with him to give him assignments and stuff. Or I'll be a bitch to him. That's it. I'll treat him like dirt and he'll quit.* Buffy paused thinking on the last part.  
  
*That is it. I'll be stubborn and angry and sulky - everything Willow said I could be. Mr Giles will be the one unable to cope, and the poor man will have to quit. * Buffy couldn't help the evil little grin that formed on her lips.  
  
Unfortunately it caught Willows eye. "What are you thinking about?" she asked, fork paused in mid air.  
  
Before she could think of a reasonable reply Cordy interrupted "I bet she's thinking about Spike."  
  
"Yes. " Anya agreed, "and about all the orgasms he'll be able to give her."  
  
Even those who were used to her straightforward announcements looked at Anya in shock as she continued to flick through her magazine, unaware of the looks she was receiving.  
  
"What?" spluttered Buffy.  
  
"Ahn, honey. What are you talking about?" asked Xander carefully.  
  
"Well the way Cordelia describes him, he sounds well equipped to provide many fulfilling orgasms. Isn't that right Cordy?" looking at the brunette for moral support.  
  
A flabbergasted Cordy could only nod her head in response, while her somewhat annoyed husband looked at her.  
  
"What? I only mentioned what he looked like. Anya hopped, skipped and jumped her way to that conclusion all by herself."  
  
Buffy looked at Willow with a hard steady look. "Willow Rosenberg, you so better tell me that is not part of his job description."  
  
"Absolutely not." Willow stated truthfully.  
  
"Good."  
  
"If it wasn't orgasms, what were you thinking about?" asked Dawn.  
  
"Dawn! No orgasm conversations." Declared her sister vehemently.  
  
"Buffy, I'm seventeen, not seven," she huffed. "And you still haven't answered the question."  
  
"I'm just thinking about all the things Mr Giles will be doing over the next few months." Buffy smiled innocently as she calmly ate a mouthful of potato, pointedly ignoring the suspicious look Willow was directing at her.  
  
At that moment a smart, if casually dressed Spike Giles in gray trousers and blue button down shirt, resumed his lift journey to the executive offices of Summers Langdon after his little detour. The outfit wasn't exactly what everyone else was wearing. He'd encountered a mountain of a man getting off at the same floor as him earlier. A complete 'aw shucks ma'am' farm boy, dressed in the ubiquitous suit in boring earth tones. You could take the boy out of Iowa, but you couldn't take Iowa outta the boy.  
  
He'd explained outright, that if he took this job there would be no-more monkey suits for him. Trousers and shirts fine, but no tie. The Personal Manager had been adamant about the dress code when he'd met her Friday afternoon to sort all the paperwork. However, he'd charmingly explained that he didn't work for the publishing house, he worked for Willow Rosenberg's computer consultancy, and they had no dress code, She'd capitulated with an amused smile, realising she'd lost that particular argument.  
  
As the lift neared its destination he pondered the enigma that was Buffy Summers. Willow Rosenberg had provided very little information regarding his new client. The redhead had declared that she didn't want to predispose him to his client's personality and demeanour in case it prejudiced his approach to her. It had been a risky proposition for him to take this job on with so little information, but the money was good, it was guaranteed for six months, he worked close to home, and his hours would mostly be regular. It had a lot of pros.  
  
Despite the sketchy information he'd been provided with, his mind still managed to make some assumptions. It cast a picture of a lonely, probably dowdy spinster with little to live for other than her family obligations. She sounded very withdrawn and if the information was anything to go by, possibly a manic depressive. How had that happened? Wasn't everyone in LA with even the slightest hint of a frown immediately prescribed high doses of anti-depressants, or shuffled off to a shrink for a lifetime of therapy?  
  
Willows instructions were to act as a PA and draw her out of herself, help with the day-to-day chores at work, free up her time so she could concentrate on spending some time on herself and her sister a little more.  
  
He smiled at the thought of the sister Willow had described, she sounded a right little ball of energy that one. There were further instructions to get her involved in things external to work and her studies, get her to enjoy her hobbies and basically, just reintroduce the concept of living her life as if it was her own once more.  
  
Willow had explained that this Buffy, *- what kind of a name was that to lumber a person with? -* had basically dropped everything important to her after her mum's death, to look out for her kid sister. After Willow's brief explanation about Buffy's parents and the situation the Summers girls had found themselves in, he wished he'd been able to meet Joyce, because she sounded like one hell of a decent lady. In contrast he hoped he'd never have to meet the detestable Hank Summers. Any man who could callously use his flesh and blood, and manipulate them so, deserved a long painful death.  
  
Across town Willow checked her watch for the hundredth time, and fiddled absently with the paperwork on her desk. Wishing she was able to eavesdrop on Spike and Buffy's meeting, but at the same time grateful to be nowhere near them.  
  
She had seen the less than innocent expression on Buffy's face on Saturday and just knew she had something up her sleeve. However, she had complete faith in Spike's abilities to deal with Tantrum Buffy. Well, almost complete faith.  
  
When Buffy had asked about the orgasms she had answered completely truthfully. They weren't part of the job description. They'd just be a mutual perk. In all honesty she hadn't thought about that sort of relationship developing between the two people that she'd be forcing together, but when Anya had stuck her great big nose in with that comment, she'd suddenly realised the two of them would probably be great together. If they didn't kill each other first.  
  
Willow only wanted what was best for her friend, and hadn't even considered the PA idea until she'd meet Spike at a computer conference.  
  
He'd been heading up the covert security at the meeting. Nothing special, just keeping an eye on the petty thieves, the inebriated and especially keeping tabs on the female attendees. It was an unfortunate fact that many of these conferences were used as an excuse to behave badly when away from one's supposed loved one, and sometimes the dalliances weren't always due to mutual attraction.  
  
She had watched fascinated as Spike had smoothed out problem after problem, caused by too much alcohol or the fact of being away from normal constraints.  
  
She had seen him carefully observing one man lacing a woman's drink with every intention of taking advantage of her. That was until Spike had intervened, called for the police and had the man arrested for attempted drugging with intent to rape.  
  
However, the biggest thing that had impressed her was the gentle way in which he charmed several of the shyer female delegates, either onto the dance floor or over to the buffet. He seemed to know just how to reach those people who needed to be encouraged. She was fascinated with the ease at which he charmed people, and had wanted to talk to him.  
  
Just as she had been about to approach him, an older woman had got to him first and from where she was, she could hear the woman propositioning him. What should have been an extremely embarrassing let down for the other woman, was changed into a charming rebuff, resulting in a quick turn around the dance floor, and an escape for Spike. She had the thought that if she hadn't known he was security and the fact that she was gay, she probably would have come to a similar conclusion to the one the other woman had, as to his reasons for being there. Heavens, everyone knew how many people of negotiable affection worked these meets.  
  
It had been at that point that she had decided Spike Giles was exactly what Buffy needed. Someone to challenge and inspire her, someone who wouldn't let her hide or avoid things. Someone that could reach her and make her live her life again. Someone, who quite simply wouldn't take Buffy Summers crap.  
  
And if sparks flew and orgasms happened, so be it.  
  
She looked at her watch. 09:00. Showtime.  
  
Spike pushed open the door to Buffy Summers' office at her muffled command to enter, and sauntered in with his most confident swagger. Red had made it very clear in yesterday's telephone call, that his presence in this woman's life wouldn't be well received. He wasn't surprised. He didn't know anyone who would take kindly to the implication that they couldn't cope and were avoiding living a full life.  
  
The woman herself was sitting at the desk, head down, features hidden from his view, and obviously avoiding looking at him. She also hadn't said anything further since he'd entered. *Ah so that's how it was, she was trying a freeze out. Let him know just how little she thought of him and the situation, and avoiding considering him a person by not acknowledging him. Well, that was neat, he had patience, he'd wait her out.*  
  
She continued to ignore his presence, so he began to move about the room deliberately making noise, moving items, flicking through the occasional manuscript. As he made every sneaky attempt to get an acknowledgement out of her, he made a quick appraisal of the office. Smart, neat, modern and very few personal items. They were only a few photographs on shelves behind the desk. An older lady who he assumed was the mum and another of a pretty, perky teen - *ah the younger sister*. No picture of daddy, no great surprise there.  
  
This was not an environment that this woman had tried to adapt to fit herself. He had a feeling that she'd adapted to it. Not a good sign.  
  
She still didn't make any attempt to converse or look at him, so he turned his attention to what he could see of her, to try and get a feel for the person she was.  
  
*Okay so not a dowdy spinster* The woman in front of him, was fashionably if severely dressed, shoulder length blonde hair * about as natural a blonde as I am*, and fairly young. That was about all he could determine without seeing her face. But something about her seemed familiar. God knows he'd never met a Buffy in his entire life. *Poor lass was probably traumatised at birth with a name like that.*  
  
Realising that the waiting game wasn't working, he decided on a different tack. He'd noticed the spare desk near the office door and decided that was going to be his. If she was trying this avoidance tactic, no doubt she'd not bothered to provide him a work-space. He returned the executive desk toy he'd been manhandling back to its obvious exile on the window sill, and with one last glimpse at the bowed head of the tiny woman at the desk, left the office.  
  
He headed for the desk outside the adjacent office. The PA there was a young, short man with a nervous disposition.  
  
"Hey mate. You know where can I get the usual bits pieces a PA needs around here? I need office supplies and a company cell phone, plus any orientation material you've got."  
  
"Erm, human resources will have provided all that for you. If you ring up you should be able to have it sent down. You're Miss Summers PA aren't you? Didn't she get this sorted for you?" asked the man shyly.  
  
"Actually I think she's been a bit busy. Hence the reason for a PA. If in she'd had one I'm sure she woulda had them do it."  
  
Spike smiled in greeting. "Name's Spike by the way. Spike Giles. " He held out his hand, for the PA to shake.  
  
"Jonathon Levenstein, good to meet you." He added as he shook the offered hand.  
  
"Likewise mate. Look could you phone Personnel for me and ask 'em to send this lot down. At a bit of a loose end at the mo. Lady's a little busy, so thought I'd get myself settled, maybe get her drink or something. D'you know what she likes? Iced tea, espresso, whatever poofy drink's the latest craze?"  
  
"Actually she's a bit of a tea drinker. She seems to like mochacinnos as her coffee preference, but she always has lots of teabags in her trashcan, " he confided.  
  
"'Cuse me? You know what's in her rubbish bin?"  
  
Jonathon had the sense to look a little guilty "Well the staff tends to gossip a little about Miss Summers. You do know she only got the job because of her father don't you? I'll admit she's good at it, but if it wasn't favouritism from Daddy she wouldn't have been hired on her credentials. Come on. An art major college drop out as an executive of a publishing company? I'm telling you it's not what you know, it's who."  
  
Spike frowned at the barrage of tittle-tattle coming from this mans mouth. He sensed there was little malice, just a desire for a good gossip.  
  
"Yeah well I wouldn't know that much about it. 'Least not yet..." He smiled trying to set the nervous bloke at ease. "So what kind of tea?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"What kind of tea, there's a big selection of teas."  
  
"There are?" At Spike's nod he added, "Well they were in a bag, " trying to be helpful.  
  
Spike shook his head at Jonathon with a small smile, indicating that he should have know better. "Bloody Americans. So Jon where can I get my lady a cuppa?"  
  
"There's the coffee shop on the eight floor, they do the usual selection. They also do a good selection of pastries and sub's and things."  
  
"They do phone orders too?"  
  
"Oh yes."  
  
"Okay then Jon mate. Give me a directory and I'll let my fingers do the walking."  
  
Jonathon handed over his phone and the numbers, and as Spike phoned the order for delivery, put in his request for a Grande latte with hazelnut shot  
  
Spike had ordered him the large white coffee with hazelnut syrup, all the while glaring at him, defying him to correct the phrasing.  
  
When the order was finished he put the receiver down and smirked at the spluttering bloke. "I don't say latte for anyone."  
  
At the sharp rap on her office door Buffy had practically jumped a foot in the air. She'd been so busy reviewing her plan of attack she'd neglected to look at the clock, and the time had flown by. She took a deep steadying breath and sat herself at her desk.  
  
Phase I - be distant, make no eye contact, and after initial greeting, ignore. Maybe sneak one small glimpse to see what Cordy was raving on about.  
  
"Come in."  
  
As he'd entered she'd simply kept her head down and pretended to work on the manuscript in front of her. If she could make him uncomfortable enough maybe he'd just go away.  
  
As the time had passed she'd got to wondering why he wasn't saying anything. Ah he thought he could out wait her. Well he had another thing coming. She'd been resolute. * I'm not saying a word * she sing-songed in her head. Realising just how childish that sounded her brow had wrinkled.  
  
She had sensed him moving about the office, making noise as he rifled through her things. * What the hell was he doing? Why wasn't he talking to her, asking what was wrong or where he was going to work? Why was he so comfortable in an office she hated? And why the hell was he staring at her now? *  
  
She'd had felt his eyes boring into the part of her head he could see. Then he was fiddling with something he'd picked up off of the window sill. Oh probably that awful executive ball thingy Hank had given to her as his idea of a welcome present.  
  
*Hey. Now where was he going?* She'd wondered as he finally left the office, completely oblivious to the fact that that was what she'd wanted, and she hadn't helped but notice just how empty the room had felt all of a sudden. His absence had left a palpable hole in the room's atmosphere.  
  
At his departure her head had come up and she'd belatedly realised she hadn't snuck that peak she was going to take. Damn. If he was gone, she'd never get to see him. She flopped back into her chair, and swung it around to stare back out the window. She'd been doing that a lot lately.  
  
Hell why was she so bothered about meeting this guy? If Willow hadn't hired him as her PA she had a feeling she'd be eager to meet him, if her attempts to locate him at the ball had anything to do with anything. She'd put this desire down to purely thanking him for bringing her friends to the realisation of what they wanted and how they were going to get it. But there was something more. That odd little niggle from Friday night just wouldn't go away.  
  
Then there was this thing with her friends thinking she couldn't cope, the realization that Dawnie really was growing up and was soon off to college, her college work was getting more difficult to juggle with the work Hank kept piling on her. And mom's dream of the gallery wasn't really any closer to fruition. When was her life going to be her own again?  
  
She had continued to stare out the window as her thoughts churned round and round in her head, and she'd completely missed the sound of the door opening and the presence of her new PA standing in front of the desk. Only the smell of the mochacinno he'd brought in with him registered.  
  
"There you go, pet. Get that in you."  
  
Her subconscious recognised the voice. "Thank you, Will." She replied distractedly.  
  
"You're welcome, Beth."  
  
The two people in the suddenly very small, and claustrophobic office froze.  
  
Buffy closed her eyes, * No way. No way did I just hear that voice * she stood, turned slowly and opened her disbelieving eyes.  
  
Hazel met blue, blinked twice, then promptly shut as she fainted for only the second time in her life.  
  
"You're welcome, Beth."  
  
Spike felt the air rush from his lungs and a white noise filled his ears in the realisation that, yes he had heard his real name and yes that it was HER voice.  
  
He watched as the last woman he'd ever expected to see again turned to look at him with incredulous eyes then dropped to the floor in a dead faint.  
  
Spike pondered the collapsed form of Beth Summers *or I suppose it would be Buffy Summers. Beth, Buffy. Buffy, Beth. Should have made that connection William old boy. Bugger it. Not William. Spike. You are Spike now. And how was I supposed to know? *  
  
*The names are derivations from Elizabeth. *  
  
Okay, but that didn't explain why she had used it. Plus it wasn't as if he'd even managed to find a sculptress called Summers, let alone a Beth or a Buffy.  
  
*Buffy silly name that, maybe that's why she'd used Beth in England. *  
  
*Or maybe she had no intention of you ever being able to find her, wasn't that what you decided William?*  
  
*Aren't you going to help her, she can't be at all comfortable on the floor. *  
  
*Shut up you ponce. *  
  
*You are aware we sound like we have a multiple personality disorder, aren't you Spike? *  
  
*William bugger of right now.*  
  
But against his better judgement and the conflicting voices in his head, he helped the unconscious form of, whatever she was deciding to call herself today, into the low couch under the window.  
  
As he lifted her he couldn't help but notice her appearance and the fact that she was as light as a feather. When he'd met her before she'd been a nice healthy size, a neat little package of curves and softness. Now she looked lithe and toned but he couldn't help but remember the pliability of her form, the way she melded into his arms and. *STOP. *  
  
*Stop. Don't do this to yourself mate. No chit is worth this. So she was a little firecracker. All pretty and eager. Don't mean nothin'. She used you. Scratched 'erself an itch and got out of your way. Leave it. Don't react to her. You're here to do a job. Get her living again, the sooner you can do it the sooner you can get on with your life. And bonus, you finally manage to get closure on a part of your life that's been haunting you for the last seven years.*  
  
He didn't even seem to notice that he'd given no thought to just resigning.  
  
As he lay her down he looked carefully at her face. There were vestiges of the girl he'd known still there, *can you know someone in under 12 hours mate?*, but now, her features were those of a woman and by the look of it not a happy one.  
  
He didn't think his sudden arrival had much to do with the look of tiredness and resignation he found in the shadows beneath her eyes, or in the tense lines around her mouth. Those took a long time to become etched that deeply. And he doubted that the weight loss was entirely to do with exercise and healthy eating, more like stress and barely eating. He had a feeling that eating regularly was a low priority for her.  
  
In spite of his determination not to react to her, he couldn't help but smooth the hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. The hair was lighter and more fashionably cut but it still felt as soft as he'd remembered and memories of the way it felt tickling his chest and face arose.  
  
"What's going on with you Beth?" he asked out loud searching her face for answers. "Who are you? Why did you leave?"  
  
*Stop that. She left. It's obvious what it was she wanted, and it sure as hell wasn't your nancy-boy, poetry reading self. Come on. Besides she did you a favour. Made you wake up to the way you were. All moonbeams and penny whistles. Bloody stupid way to live your life. Now look at you. Confidant, charming, good with the ladies, all in all I'd say it was better than dear old William had it, wouldn't you?*  
  
*Oh yes,* whispered the small voice of William left over, *but did being Spike work out so much better for you? Didn't exactly make Dru a keeper did it?*  
  
*What the hell you on mate? Me and Dru had an understanding. We were happy.*  
  
*Yes, you were for a while. Then what? She decided you weren't the man for her and found someone with a bit more of the nasty in him. Surprised you didn't re-invent yourself even more than you did for her. Or is it only petite blondes that shake you up so much?*  
  
*Piss off.*  
  
So what if this little chit had started that particular transformation from William to Spike. Bloody obvious William wasn't worth a second go.  
  
*Bleedin' hell you stupid wanker.stop thinking about this. So it's her. What's the matter with you? So she did a number on you. So what? Wasn't like she was the first woman to screw you over. Can we say Cecily? *  
  
*Yeah but at least Cecily was straight-forward, this little bitch did you in right good and proper didn't she? All coy and disarming, when all she wanted was a quick rough and tumble. What was it to her do you suppose? Let you be the sensitive boy so she had a lovely little story to tell all her mates about come the return to the USA.  
  
A poet who she could claim took her virginity with moonlight and roses, when all that the little chit had wanted was to ditch that virginity and the bloke she seduced into taking it, come the morning light. That was assuming she'd stayed till morning, wasn't as if she'd even had the decency to stay until he woke, or even bothered to leave a note. No all she'd wanted was to get as far away from your poncy self as soon as possible. And the things you told her, how bloody funny she must have found those, considering the way she was using you. Hell she even approached you, remember? *  
  
Tbc. 


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
From chapter 6  
  
Spike: "Hell she even approached you, remember?"  
  
Flashback  
  
Seven years ago - England  
  
William stood in the centre of the crowd of people attending the evening opening of the local gallery. A young man of medium height, his casual student dress was an anomaly in the crowd of strangers that milled around him in their smart clothes, making him feel very out of place.  
  
He knew very little about art but there was someone in his life to whom it was very important, so when she'd invited him he'd felt compelled to attend and lend her his full support.  
  
He looked around at the art on display. Some of it was abominable, how on earth did some of these people even consider themselves artists? Works that consisted of piles of rubbish or building materials. One bright spark had even picked up a traffic cone from somewhere, stuck it on a pedestal and called it "Coned off". Bloody ridiculous. Okay, now he was channelling his father. Not good.  
  
Good God what happened to paintings? At least the lady he'd come to see tonight had the right idea. He was looking at them now. A display of some twenty or so pieces of artwork. They were all paintings. Beautiful renditions of British scenery. He had no idea what style they were in, or even really what medium. All he knew was they radiated a calmness and serenity that was part and parcel of the woman who'd created them. He was so engrossed in them, he didn't hear the person approaching him from behind until she spoke.  
  
"Hey handsome."  
  
William turned to the soft feminine voice behind him and smiled when he saw the attractive woman it belonged to. He grabbed his cousin into a warm embrace, enjoying the comforting feel of her arms. There was something very soothing about Tara McClay. Not a conventional beauty, but her pretty face, warm eyes, unique lopsided smile and womanly form, along with her nurturing warm nature had attracted her many an admirer, male and female alike.  
  
"Hello Tai, " he whispered his special nickname for her into her hair, still holding her tightly.  
  
"Will, Sweetie. I still need to breathe."  
  
He released her with a quick apology. There weren't many people he felt comfortable with, especially in close contact, but he and Tara had always been close. More like siblings than cousins, and her restful aura just made her very comfortable to be around and to confide in.  
  
"I'm glad you could make it, Will. I wasn't sure you'd come."  
  
She took his arm and led him toward the buffet table. "Do you want something to eat? You're looking a little thin, Sweetie. Too much studying I'll bet. Here have a plate."  
  
Will just smiled at her motherly concern as he accepted the plate she was piling high with food. That was Tara, always the carer. He wished he was able to spend more time with her but he was concerned about the situation she was in with her estranged family, and didn't wish to draw attention to her by his presence.  
  
She moved him over to the small seating area and took a seat, watching as he settled next to her.  
  
"Thanks Tai. But I really shouldn't have come. Donny could have followed me here."  
  
"Oh Will, don't be so melodramatic." She gestured at him to eat.  
  
"My brother knows where I am." At his incredulous stare she continued, "As does the rest of the family. I'm fed up hiding from them. They have no claim on me, or my life and the sooner they realise that the better."  
  
She looked at him kindly. "You don't have to rescue me Sweetie. I'm fine. Concentrate on yourself for a change."  
  
"Tai, what the hell do you mean, they know where you are? We've spent the last five years trying to keep your location from them. We haven't seen each other in three years because I didn't want them to find you. Now you say they know where you are. How?"  
  
"I told them."  
  
"You did what?" William just couldn't believe it, couldn't believe her. She'd tried so hard to get away from the family that had controlled her life, dictated what she could or couldn't do, who she could or couldn't see. And now she tells him, in that annoyingly calm way of hers, that they know where she is. Why the hell did she tell them?  
  
"I told them. William, hiding wasn't solving anything. I was getting so involved in concealing myself and who I was, what I was doing, that I stopped being me. That was just as bad as the family controlling me. So I contacted Dad, told him where I was, what I was doing and explained in no uncertain terms that he has no legal rights over me, nor would any of his attempts to belittle me work. He has to realise that I'm my own person, with my own dreams and he has no say in anything I choose to do or not to do."  
  
Will looked at her in complete amazement and awe, bewildered that she would do such a thing and at the same time immensely proud that she'd taken charge of her life.  
  
"Tai, sweet. You are the most amazing woman I know." And he brushed a sweet kiss against her forehead.  
  
He watched as she blushed ."Hardly. Come on, "she added changing the subject to something a little less broody, "Eat up I want to show you something, then there's someone I'd like you to meet."  
  
William saw the mischievous glint in her eye, knowing exactly what she was doing. "Ah ah, " he warned her, "you are not going to try and 'fix me up'."  
  
The answering smile she gave him put it at ease. "No sweetie, I'm not," she reassured him, " but there is a friend of mine I'd like to introduce you to. We've been corresponding for a while and." before she could finish she was interrupted by the exhibition organiser.  
  
"Excuse me Miss McClay, but you have an interested party for some of your pieces."  
  
"Oh poo."  
  
The man was obviously confused as to her annoyance "Miss McClay, people wishing to purchase your work is usually considered a good thing." He explained as if to a child.  
  
Tara and Will shared an amused smile. "Yes Mr Edwards, I know that. Thank you. I'll be there in a minute."  
  
As he departed she stood and turned back to William, "Look Will, I'm sorry, but this could take a while. Will you stay for a while, take a look round.? I'll get back to you as soon as I can. "  
  
He nodded at her, "Quick, go get those pictures sold."  
  
He gave her an awkward hug, juggling her and the still full plate.  
  
"You eat that, you hear." She ordered pointing to said plate  
  
"Yes Miss." He agreed  
  
"Don't use your boyish charms on me William Calendar. I'm immune," she smiled and began to walk away. Stopping quickly she turned at look at him. "Well mostly. it's so lovely to see you again Sweetie. It's been too long."  
  
With that she turned in search of Mr Edwards and her buyer.  
  
At a bit of a loss, he ate a few pieces of food from the plate, but none of it was particularly appetising. He glanced around, still uncomfortable and debated heading back to his hotel, or maybe taking a walk along the sea front and picking up some fish and chips. Now that he knew Tara wasn't in hiding, it'd be easier to communicate with her and from the look of her and the attractive woman she was deep in conversation with, it would be a long while before she would be getting back to him.  
  
He smiled at the slight flush gracing her cheeks as the brunette woman gently touched her hand. It was about time Tara was able to live her life. God knew her family didn't condone her, how had her father phrased it? Oh yes, 'her unnatural life style choice.' But her newfound strength and determination amazed him and part of him was slightly jealous of that ability to say 'yah boo sucks' to the world and get on with life.  
  
His attention was deflected from his cousin when he noticed a medium size sculpture almost hidden up against the far wall. Something about it intrigued him, and with all thoughts of Tara or leaving temporarily forgotten, he moved towards it.  
  
It was a beautiful abstract piece that gave the impression of an androgynous human figure. All curves and strong shapes, pure white, with an intense sheen that glinted in the light. He could only imagine how much better it would look with the right lighting and positioning. As it was it was breathtaking, correctly shown it would be phenomenal.  
  
He couldn't quite work out why it was here. It was if it had been shoved into the display as an after thought. It really was a shame as it showed such passion and involvement. Someone had thought about this piece, had studied the material to find the perfect form for the strengths and even the flaws hidden in the substance of the stone. He was at odds with himself to mention the flaw, but it was there. A small fracture in the stone, right across the area of the heart. Initially it gave the impression that the figure's heart had been broken, by some woeful calamity, but on further inspection the feeling was more than that. It said that, even with flaws in ones life, or psyche, one could love and be loved. And that was one hell of a thing for a bloody lump of inanimate rock to say.  
  
He was so engrossed, that once again, he didn't realise there was someone behind him, until they spoke  
  
"Do you like it?" asked a soft nervous female voice.  
  
He continued to study the work still finding small nuances of detail that captivated him. "Excuse me?" he asked distractedly.  
  
"Do you like it? This sculpture, do you like it? It's just you've been looking at it for the past ten minutes so I wondered if you liked it. Because I figured if you didn't like it then you probably wouldn't keep looking at it, and I'm rambling so I'll just go away now. Bye."  
  
He could sense she was about to leave and realised the nervous blather deserved some acknowledgement that he'd heard her. He spoke from his heart when he answered, "It has.passion."  
  
"It has?"  
  
He was surprised at the question. The answer was obvious to him. "Don't you think so?"  
  
"Well yes I do. But my thoughts aren't really relevant."  
  
"They're not? And why would that be?"  
  
"Well when you sculpt something you know what the piece is trying to tell you, but you never really know if you manage to capture that meaning or not. You're too close to it."  
  
"You created this." he paused searching for the perfect word.  
  
"This what?" she asked. He could hear the wariness in her voice as if she expected the worse.  
  
"This wonderful, majestic form." He finally turned his attention away from the figure to the small form staring at the sculpture, next to him.  
  
"Majestic? Really? Wow."  
  
As her voice trailed off, he took a good look at the person who could create such a beautiful thing. She was a pretty little bundle. Small in stature, with soft female curves, an abundance of long dark blonde hair and stunning hazel eyes blinking at him from behind her glasses. She was adorable.  
  
"May I ask your name? I'll keep an eye out for any future works you create. I am sure there will be many." He wasn't just being polite, he really thought she was very talented, and he'd look eagerly for any other pieces she did. Maybe one day he'd be able to afford one.  
  
"Beth Summers." She held out her hand.  
  
"And I am William Calendar." As they shook hands William was surprised with the ease he felt at the contact. It was with reluctance he released her hand, missing the warmth she had emitted. They stood each watching the other with a certain wariness, wondering at the strange familiarity between them. The odd feeling of.completion.of.home.  
  
"Do you really like it?"  
  
Why did she seem so insecure?  
  
"Yes, I really like it. Do you think I would lie?"  
  
"No. No. It's not that. It's just the first time I've ever shown my work. As it is, it was sorta shoved in at the last minute. A friend of mine saw it and wanted me to show it but they didn't really have the room, or the right lighting to show it at it's best. Plus you're the first person to show the slightest interest."  
  
"That's a shame. It's.effulgent." He replied with a small smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes.  
  
"Effulgent? Is that even a real word?" she looked at him with suspicious amusement.  
  
"Absolutely it means 'radiant splendour'. "  
  
At her bemused face he added, "Sorry an in joke. I'm reading English Literature at University and one of our professors has this thing for spouting out improbable words and asking us to rhyme them. It's a piece of fun, but it's amazing the words that stick in your mind after doing it."  
  
She looked at him with curiosity. "So what does rhyme with it?"  
  
"I haven't the faintest idea." He finally admitted as they both creased up into childish laughter.  
  
Two hours later they were holed up in a vacant little Victorian Bus stop on the sea front, eating fish and chips and watching the most astounding storm sweep in across the sea. The storm, combined with the sunset, made for an unexpected amalgam of colours and textures which Beth was observing with every intent to memorise and use, she said.  
  
He was hard pressed to explain exactly how they had ended up here of all places. He remembered asking her if she was hungry, when she nodded yes and he asked "Buffet?" he swore he saw a look of shock pass her features. When the look had passed and she'd shaken her head explaining she'd tried the food and didn't find it tasty, his earlier thought of fish and chips came to mind. When she'd agreed, he dragged them out of the gallery and down to the seafront to the English equivalent of haute cuisine.  
  
He hadn't even stopped to say goodbye to Tai. Just caught her eye, as Beth had gone to collect her coat, and gave her the 'I'll call you' gesture, with his hand to his ear.  
  
They chatted more about the gallery, about her family, his degree, about all sorts of inconsequential things the weather, art, literature, sports, TV. The list was long and diverse.  
  
He'd explained that he wasn't close to his family, his parents were divorced with his father living in the States and he lived with his mother when he wasn't at University. She said hers were too, but her father was no great loss.  
  
She had an opinion on everything and he found they disagreed on some things as much as agreed on others.  
  
He found himself too enraptured with her delightful insights and humorous asides to pay much attention to anything but her. He'd been wrong. Her art wasn't effulgent. she was. She was graceful, yet had nearly managed to decapitate a gallery worker as he'd offered her an exquisitely prepared yet foul tasting canapé. She was funny but serious, shy but outgoing when relaxed, conservative but a fiery passion burned below the shy exterior, stubborn while open.  
  
The woman who sat next to him, industriously inhaling fish and chips like it was going to jump off her lap was a study of contrasts, a contradiction in all things and she completely enthralled him.  
  
They had been talking so long, that the scuttling clouds and impending darkness from the storm and the sunset had engulfed them without them realising it. It wasn't until the first lightning flash was joined by the virtually instantaneous thunderclap, and the driving horizontal rain swept into the shelter, that they interrupted their conversation.  
  
Beth stood pulling William up with her. "Oh my God Will. Come here."  
  
"What are we doing, Kitten?" he'd started calling her small endearments after they'd left the gallery. She didn't seem to mind. If it wasn't for the slight red hue that graced her cheeks each time he did it, he would have thought she hadn't noticed. But as she didn't seem to mind and hadn't told him to stop, he took every opportunity to drop these small hints of his fascination of her, to her. Because, if William was honest with himself, he probably had fallen for her the moment he'd taken her hand and felt like he'd come home.  
  
"Feel this." She took his hand and pulled him out of the shelter and into the rain. Still grasping his hand she raised her arms and face to the sky, and allowed the elements to caress her.  
  
"Feel what?" he asked, feeling fairly certain she wasn't referring to the freezing rain.  
  
"The power, all these natural energies. They're inspiring."  
  
She turned and treated him to the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen, her previously hazel eyes were wild, and wide, and now a dark emerald. She looked completely alive and invigorated.  
  
Will contemplated this extraordinary woman. To him she looked every inch the mythical siren. The wind whipped her hair into a dark halo around her head, the rain had moulded her loose clothes to her body, with the extra fabric of her skirt fluttering around her legs. His romantic sensibilities got the better of him and he found himself silently vowing, to willingly follow this siren, his muse, to the ends of the earth, just so he could look upon her.  
  
He was completely astounded when she flung her arms around his neck and drew him into an impulsive and passionate kiss.  
  
Will was lost in her and so shocked at the spontaneous gesture it took a few long seconds for him to realise what was happening. When his mind finally caught up with the situation, he was glad to notice that at least his body had had some sense and was holding her close.  
  
Her mouth pressed against his somewhat uncertainly but with such desire his knees trembled. He wove his hands through her wet hair, holding and angling her head to increase the depth and intensity of the kiss. She may have been uncertain and initially tentative, but her kisses were impassioned yet tender, as if his mouth was something delicate to explore and memorise.  
  
He felt.cherished.it seemed an odd word to describe the feelings coursing through him. He been told time and again that love was passionate, demanding, fervent, all encompassing. And he felt all that, but beneath it all was an indescribable feeling that came from being.complete.  
  
Will felt as though she were inhaling his essence, taking his soul and moulding it to fit her own. She was both hot and cold. Her body warmth contrasted to the cold wetness of her clothing and a proud portion of his brain noted her tremble at his caresses, as one of his hands smoothed down from her hair to her neck, softly gracing the curve of her breast, and ultimately held her to him by her waist. Her body was soft and pliant beneath his hands as she responded to his actions, and grabbed his wet curls in return.  
  
They embraced in the pouring rain, while lightning flashed around them and the waves crashed into the promenade. They were so involved in the feel and taste of each other they probably would have stayed for the duration of the storm, completely oblivious to the raging tempest around them, as they gave in to the maelstrom of emotions flowing through them.  
  
As it was, if a small elderly lady hadn't passed them, and with a smile, and a passing comment 'that as romantic as they looked, pneumonia was still a nasty illness to have, and shouldn't he take his pretty young lady home to dry off?' they would have stayed in their own world until the storm had passed.  
  
As they pulled apart from each other, he looked deeply into to her eyes, trying to gauge the emotions swirling there. She seemed overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss. A little skittish at their proximity now that the immediate passion of the moment had ebbed back from a desperate peak, although it remained as a steady thrum in the background, as if just waiting for the right time to surge forth again and sweep them away, but she also looked quite happy to remain encircled by his arms and he was more then content to just hold her.  
  
With one hand he smoothed a wet piece of hair away from her face to tuck behind her ear, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose.  
  
"Okay kitten?" he asked gently.  
  
"Mmmh.a little wet though." She answered with a contented sigh, as she rubbed her cheek against his chest.  
  
He pulled back surprised at her words, until his mind climbed back out of the sexual innuendo basement and realised they were both sopping wet from the rain. A sudden burst of guilt hit him, with the realisation that while he'd been all proud of his ability to make her tremble with his touch, what it might actually have been, was the cold and wet.  
  
As his eyes widened in panic, her eyes found his and her hand gently traced a cheekbone with the tips of her fingers. " Don't worry. It was you making me quiver. I wasn't cold when you kissed me, you made me feel warm and safe." *Was she a mind reader?*  
  
"Do you read minds?" he asked before thinking.  
  
"No." she pulled his head down to place a chaste kiss to his lips, "But I can read your eyes. So blue." she stated in wonder and she kissed him softly.  
  
"You're amazing." He pulled her in closer to kiss her again, but a thought interrupted before he did so and he pulled back a little. "And technically you kissed me."  
  
Her eyes twinkled in merriment at his pedantry, "Well there's one way to amend that." Her voice invited.  
  
He grinned and pecked her on the forehead. "There we go, all sorted." And before she could protest the brevity of his kiss he swept her up into his arms and started to carry her down the promenade.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
William paused. He'd been taking her back to his hotel to dry off, but maybe that wasn't what she wanted or what she thought he wanted from her.  
  
"I was going to get you dry. My hotel's only five minutes down the road."  
  
At her slightly surprised look he continued, " But I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to entice you there, if your place is closer I'll take you there, I just don't want you to catch cold. I promise I'll behave like a perfect gentleman." He looked away, letting her make the call.  
  
"Well that would be a real shame, " answered her teasing voice. Now it was his turn to be surprised as he searched her face, trying to read her mind this time.  
  
"Look Will, my hotel's actually quite a way into town, so if it's okay I'd like to get dry as quick as possible. If your place is closer, it's fine. I'm starting to get cold. I believe you wont take advantage of me." She admitted in all seriousness.  
  
"That's more than fine." He grinned. Happy she'd decided to trust him, he continued on his way.  
  
"Er.Will?"  
  
"Yes precious?"  
  
"You can put me down, I have legs and I've been using them nearly my entire life."  
  
"Yes, I've seen them, and very shapely they are too." But he made no move to put her down as she blushed prettily.  
  
After another minute of him carrying her she piped up again "So. Are you gonna put me down?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Okay.  
  
Why not?"  
  
"A couple of very good reasons."  
  
"And they would be?"  
  
"Makes me feel all manly."  
  
"Oh.You said a couple of reasons"  
  
"Yes I did."  
  
"William!"  
  
He snorted at her annoyance, loving the way her face flushed and her breathing increased.  
  
"Yes petal?"  
  
"What's another reason?"  
  
He looked back down at her and whispered into her ear the soft spoken words that belied the force of their impact on the small blonde.  
  
"I don't want to let you go."  
  
"But you did go. Didn't you pet? " Stated Spike sadly, running his hand down the unconscious woman's face, re-tracing the features that had been burned into his mind from their all too brief encounter. Features that he had recalled numerous times to curse at, or to worship in equal measure.  
  
Years ago Cecily had bruised his ego. And at the time he felt as if his heart and been broken, but it wasn't until this little bit of a woman had come and gone in his life did he realise that Cecily had been nothing more than a short lived fixation. A fascination based on what he thought he should want in a woman. She was cultured, sophisticated and well educated. She ran in the right social circles, but she had no feeling or understanding for anyone other than herself. Yes, she'd been attracted to William, but a quick spin with him was all she'd been interested in, and he'd been cast aside with excessive honesty, and cruelty that had left him in tears.  
  
Beth.no not Beth. Buffy. Buffy had been no less cruel, but the lack of honesty had been the clincher. He had revealed himself to her in ways he had never done to anybody before. He had given himself to her that night. So freely. So completely. Not just physically but emotionally too. He had given up his very essence to her and believed that she had welcomed him, complete with all his imperfections and flaws.  
  
But she had still left. Not a goodbye, not an 'I'm sorry but.', not a thank you, not a note. Not the slightest indication that the beautiful lies she had spoken, the things she had told him, had been anything more than a complete head fuck. Least he had the matching set. The body fuck had been bloody good too.  
  
Waking up alone and bereft the next morning, he had vainly searched his extremely small room. Hopeful thoughts had crossed his mind that she'd gone to the bathroom, or for breakfast, anything to delay the stark truth, that she had left.  
  
He had lain back in the rumpled sheets, still able to smell her subtle vanilla fragrance, suddenly realising that in all the things she'd told him, confided in him, she had never told him where she was staying, how long she'd be in England, where she lived in the States or where she went to college. Everything she'd spoken about had been abstract. Despite all the things she'd had said, not one would enable him to actually find her, and just maybe that was what she had planned.  
  
His eyes had filled with tears that he wouldn't let fall, and he had sworn with a steadfast determination, that no woman would make him cry again.  
  
*So used again William. Aren't the men the ones who are supposed to shag and leave?* The snarky voice that resided deep in William had asked, poked and prodded.  
  
This voice had always there, always telling him what he should do if people ignored him or belittled him, or made him feel less than he was. Made him feel beneath them. So for the first time in his life William had listened and realised the voice was part of him and maybe it was about time he stood up for himself, took what he wanted for a change.  
  
He had packed up his belongings, closing the open poetry book from the bedside table with a snap, checked out of the hotel and headed for the bus station. The journey up the promenade had taken him past the bus stop from the night before. He had paused briefly and watched as a couple of teenagers played tonsil hockey with a lot of enthusiasm if not skill, in the exact spot he and Beth had sat. He had been so caught up in his misery the young lad caught him looking and told him no uncertain terms to "to bugger off you great poof. Not givin' you a soddin' free show here mate!"  
  
Startled and embarrassed to be caught watching, although their antics had been the last thing on his mind, he'd resumed his journey to the bus station. After purchasing his ticket, he'd sat down and pondered on the pathetic situation he called his life and the changes necessary. First things to go had to be his 'look' and attitude, and let's not forget the speech. His mind had wandered back to the teenager at the bus stop. That was what he needed, a bit of attitude in his voice. One of the lads he knew from University had all sorts of slang in his speech so he at least had some reference material.  
  
He tried it out *So why are you the one left eh? Let's see. Not a bad looking bloke. Good strong features, the birds like that. But come on mate? The hair.curls? And the glasses. Need to head for the opticians.get those baby blues a flashin and you'll be quid's in. And these poncy clothes? The poet thing not really working for you is it? The girls like something a little more dangerous. Someone with mystery and confidence. There's plenty more lovely ladies out in the big wide world.*  
  
As he was mentally adjusting his idiom he'd noticed a magazine someone had left behind. It was an issue of a music magazine, doing a retrospective of the eighties. He couldn't help but be drawn to the powerful image of the bleached, leather-clad man on the front cover. He just projected such confidence and assurity. That was what he wanted.  
  
At that point William had made his decision. No more Mr Nice guy, no more being used and cast aside. It was about time he became a force to be reckoned with. Time for a change.  
  
His father had been pestering him to go to the US, spend some time there. That had been the way to go. Dear old Rupes had had one hell of a shock when his son had turned up on the doorstep. Gone was the casually dressed, natural-looking industrious student, and here to stay was his new alter ego Spike Giles. Bleached blond, slicked hair, contacts and new accent all ready and raring to go.  
  
His tolerant father had merely given him a once over. Stated no drugs, no parties and no women, at least in the house, and then pretty much left him to his own devices.  
  
Spike was pretty successful, but remnants of William remained. He still studied, even adding a psychology minor, seeing as he seemed to have another person residing in his head. Yes he partied and found the occasional woman to share his bed. But his past experiences made many of those encounters more about revenge than anything else. But underneath it all William felt empathy for the women, making sure to be honest and that each of them knew the situation. He didn't want to make anyone feel as bad as he had.  
  
Then he met Drusilla. Drusilla had been his dark Princess. He'd loved her and it wasn't until she had dumped him he'd realised she hadn't loved him, just been obsessed with him.  
  
If Buffy had moulded his soul, Drusilla had ripped it out. Pulled and twisted it into something even he came to barely recognise. She embroiled him in silly games designed to hurt and confuse others. She got him involved in jealousy provoked bar fights, where she would flirt until Spike's temper would flare into an uncontrollable fury. The scar over his left eye was courtesy from one of these incidents. Not left by his opponent, but by his own girlfriend. She'd clocked him one when he'd refused to carry on hitting a man he'd already rendered unconscious..  
  
For nearly two years their relationship continued until he finally came to his senses. He was nearly thrown out of college. But the final straw had been Dru herself. He had never done drugs, although Dru was doing them and the fact that he wouldn't had been something that angered her. She had tried every ruse under the sun to get him to try, she pleaded with him, she tried cajoling him with her tears, tempting him with sex, and when these didn't work she spiked him. Unsuspecting she slipped LSD into his drink one night and Spike had visited bloody Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds on the acid trip from hell.  
  
Even that wasn't the final straw, but lying in that hospital room, with his father watching him with fear in his eyes, had made him sit up and take notice of his relationship with Dru. She didn't need him to take care of her, she wanted something to play with and manipulate like some bloody doll. She controlled him through his love for her, and God help him he had still loved her. He had lost himself in her. Delighted that such a dark beauty could want and desire him. He had skipped classes, partied too much, drank too much, stole the things she desired. He became the big bloody bad, for a woman who used him as her plaything. All because he thought she loved him. And he had been taking pysch classes? Bloody blind he'd been.  
  
When he'd got out of the hospital he went to see her, to try and get things understood between them as well as to get her the help he realised she so desperately needed. She'd acted like everything was fine and normal and tried to lure him into bed. But he couldn't trust her and in an almighty rage she had dumped him. Oblivious to the fact that that was what Spike had already had in mind. He would have helped her through any treatment, but he could no longer be with her. It was with sadness he had realised you could only help someone so much, then it was up to them to help themselves.  
  
He went back to studying and the Big Bad and William managed to find a compromise in the new and improved Spike. He was all the good things in William, and all the strength of character and confidence that was the Bad.  
  
It was this Spike who watched avidly, as the hazel eyes of Buffy Summers began to flutter open.  
  
tbc 


End file.
